


Long Way to Happy

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Series: Psych 101 'Verse [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: BDSM, Boys In Love, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Pampering, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: Malcolm is back in New York and finds Clay Russell is there too (what a coincidence /wink/) ... they navigate the weird twists and turns of renewing their relationship and everything is great until ... Fate throws a wrench in things.  Their reunion is sweet, and they men are left to try to both pick up where they left off and relearn each other and their relationship ...
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Psych 101 'Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558603
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Long Way to Happy

**Author's Note:**

> All I ask is for a little suspension of belief when it comes to my discussion about the ramifications of Malcolm's kidnapping - my focus is on the relationship stuff, not the medical stuff. <3

“Malcolm Whitly - sorry, Malcolm Bright.”

Malcolm clutched the coffee in his hand and stared. Clay Russell was there, in New York.

“Clay,” Malcolm said. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting coffee,” Clay replied.

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“You’re being purposefully obtuse,” Malcolm said. 

“Just the way you like it,” Clay said. “Come sit with me, M. Let’s catch up, huh?”

Malcolm swallowed and nodded. He eased his grip on the coffee cup as he followed Clay to a table just outside the coffee shop. He sat down and watched as Clay sat down across from him; a bit older, a little bit grayer. But still so lovely.

“Here on vacation?” Malcolm asked.

“Nope,” Clay replied. 

“Not here on vacation?” Malcolm said. “Are you guest lecturing?”

“Guess again,” Clay said.

Malcolm took a sip of coffee and took a closer look at Clay’s appearance. Worn boots, blue jeans, a plain t shirt and a black leather jacket.

“Oh my gosh, you’re not teaching anymore, are you?” Malcolm asked.

“Correct,” Clay said. “I stopped teaching and moved to the city. Sold that big house and bought myself a brownstone here.”

“Why New York City?” Malcolm asked. “You could have gone to any city.”

“Not really,” Clay said. “My manager, editor and publisher are all here.”

“You’re writing,” Malcolm said. “Let me guess - true crime?”

“Too smart for your own good,” Clay said. “So what is Malcolm Bright doing back in the city?”

“Helping solve crime?” Malcolm tried, then frowned when Clay gave him a _look_. “I got fired from the FBI.”

“M,” Clay said. “What happened?”

“Went into one too many situations half cocked and it bit me in the ass,” Malcolm muttered. “So I moved back home.”

“Living in one of your mother’s apartments, then,” Clay said. “Are you seeing your father?”

Malcolm winced. “Just a couple times,” he said.

“M,” Clay said with a sigh. “And I bet the night terrors are back.”

Malcolm sipped his coffee and nodded; they were back with a vengeance.

“Dammit,” Clay said. “Why didn’t you call me? Ask for recommendations?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you with my issues,” he whispered, blushing when he felt Clay’s hand resting on his.

“You’re not a burden, darlin’,” Clay said. “Far from it.”

It was like the last ten years melted away and Malcolm was suddenly back in college.

“Clay,” Malcolm whispered.

“My bright boy,” Clay whispered back.

Malcolm blinked away tears and stared down at his coffee.

“So, um, how long have you been in town?” Malcolm asked.

“Long enough to get my brownstone all fitted out just the way I want it, but not long enough to have a favorite pizza place, yet,” Clay said.

Malcolm shivered a bit and gave Clay a small smile. 

“I could help,” he said. “With finding a favorite pizza place.”

“Could you, now?” Clay said. “Wanna grab dinner tonight?”

“I would love to,” Malcolm said. “Sure we can’t spend the rest of the day together until then?” Now that Clay was suddenly back in his life, Malcolm was loathe to let him go.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Clay said. “I have a meeting with both my editor and my publisher.”

“The trials of being an author,” Malcolm said with a smile. “I just … you’re back.”

“I am,” Clay replied. “You’re still my bright boy.”

“Are you, um, seeing anyone?” Malcolm asked. It wasn’t his place, Malcolm knew that, but he needed to know.

“Yeah, I am,” Clay said.

“Oh,” Malcolm said softly.

“You, M,” Clay said with a laugh. “I’m seeing you. You’re adorable if you think I’m letting you go now that I have you back.”

Malcolm sighed with relief. 

“So, dinner tonight,” Malcolm said.

“Dinner tonight,” Clay said. “Here, pass me your phone.”

Malcolm immediately complied, watching as Clay fiddled with his phone a bit.

“Updated information?” Malcolm asked as Clay passed the phone back.

“Yep,” Clay said. “New cell number and my address. Now, I have to go, but I expect to see you at my house at six sharp tonight. I wouldn’t suggest being late.”

Malcolm shivered at Clay’s words as Clay got up and stepped away from the table.

“I missed you,” Malcolm said impulsively.

“I missed you, too, M,” Clay said. “See you tonight.”

Malcolm watched Clay leave with a smile.

Things were looking up.

* * * 

“You’re exactly on time.”

“I aim to please,” Malcolm said as he stood on the steps of Clay’s brownstone. He’d actually gotten there ten minutes early, but had waited until exactly six - he didn’t want to seem too eager. Even though he was.

Too eager.

“I know you do,” Clay said. “Care for a tour?” 

“Sure,” Malcolm said. 

“It’s a bit smaller than the other place, but not so many doors so you won’t get so turned around,” Clay teased.

Malcolm followed Clay inside and smiled. The brownstone had clearly been restored and it was a unique mix of modern and Victorian. Exposed brick walls, wood floors, sturdy staircases with large bannisters, built in bookcases complete with a rolling ladder. Yet all around it were modern couches, an updated kitchen, luxurious bathrooms … 

“It’s beautiful,” Malcolm said. “Really.”

“Wait until you see the ground floor,” Clay said. “Full playroom.”

“Now that does sound like fun,” Malcolm said.

“But probably not tonight,” Clay said. “Tonight is about us. And pizza.”

Malcolm laughed and nodded.

“I know a good pizza place,” he said.

“I bet you do,” Clay said. “Let’s go.”

Malcolm sighed when Clay wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him close as they headed out to the sidewalk and walked down the street to the subway.

“So, where are your cars?” Malcolm asked.

“I have to pay to store them here in the city,” Clay said. “Fucking horrible drivers around here and I’d be scared they’ll get hit.”

“My mother uses a driving service,” Malcolm said. “Took forever for me and Ains to learn to drive and get our licenses.”

“I take the subway,” Clay said.

“Obviously,” Malcolm said as he directed them to the nearest subway station. He could get them to their favorite pizza place easy.

“And I’ll take a car service if I need to,” Clay said. “But sometimes I just want to drive myself.”

“Maybe we can go for a drive sometime,” Malcolm said.

“Not maybe,” Clay said. “I’ll take you anytime you want.”

“Good to know,” Malcolm said with a smile.

Malcolm navigated them to the subways and a few stops later they stood outside Malcolm’s favorite pizza place. It was a hole in the wall kind of place that you would miss if you weren’t looking for it.

“My kinda place,” Clay said.

“Figured you’d appreciate it,” Malcolm said as he led the way inside. “Gil used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid.”

“Good taste,” Clay replied. “Let me guess? Veggie pizza.”

“Onions, garlic and tomato,” Malcolm replied with a grin.

“Onions and garlic?” Clay said. 

“Yep!”

“All right - onions, garlic and tomato it is,” Clay said.

Malcolm knew he was grinning like a fool when he went to place their order, but he didn’t care. He ordered a couple of beers with their slices and when their order was up, they took everything and sat outside.

“So, why did you stop teaching?” Malcolm asked.

“Felt like time,” Clay replied. “Thought it was time to try something new.”

Malcolm hummed as he drank his beer and ate his pizza.

“And the writing?” Malcolm asked.

“Always been a true crime junkie,” Clay said. “So figured why not turn my hobby into something that’ll earn me money.”

Malcolm smiled - he really hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Clay.

“And how’s that going?” Malcolm asked. “The writing thing?”

“So far so good,” Clay said. “No money yet, but I’ll get there. So tell me about what’s been going on with you, Malcolm? What’s happened since you graduated?”

“Well, you know some of it,” Malcolm said, a bit evasively.

“I know what you decided I should know,” Clay said. “I know about the name change - I approve, by the way - and the accolades. But I want to know about you. How you’ve been.”

Malcolm shrugged. “There’ve been some rough patches,” he said. “Finding … people.”

“The list didn’t work?”

“It was fine,” Malcolm said. “They all just had the same problem.”

“And what’s that?” Clay asked.

“None of them were you,” Malcolm whispered, staring down at his now empty plate.

“Aw, darlin’,” Clay said.

Malcolm continued to stare down at his plate until he felt Clay’s fingers on his chin, lifting his head so they were face to face.

“You know, I never meant for what happened to happen,” Clay started, “but I’m damned happy it did. You kind of steam rolled into my life and made me rethink everything. And maybe a small part of me came to this city in the hopes that maybe, _maybe_ , fate would put you in my path again.”

“Romantic,” Malcolm said with a grin.

“Yeah, well don’t go spreading it around, I have a rep,” Clay replied. “And, since I see you’re done with your pizza, wanna walk that pizza off?”

“As long as it’s actually a walk,” Malcolm said. “I’m not wearing running shoes.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a walk,” Clay said with a laugh. “Wouldn’t want the pizza to come back up.”

Malcolm shook his head as he stood and grabbed their trash. He went to go throw it away and when he turned around, Clay was right there. He smiled when Clay pulled him close, slung an arm across Malcolm’s shoulder and led them on a leisurely stroll back in the direction of the subway.

When they finally arrived back at Clay’s brownstone, Malcolm half expected to be invited inside and downstairs. He was invited inside, but instead he found himself curled up with Clay on the couch in the living room.

“Told you no playroom tonight,” Clay murmured.

“But soon, right?” Malcolm replied softly.

“Soon.”

* * * 

The next few weeks passed in a similar fashion. Malcolm and Clay would meet for lunch or dinner and then go back to Clay’s place. Sometimes they just cuddled together, sometimes they watched television (crime dramas where they both posited who’d done it), sometimes they just read quietly, sometimes they played cards. 

But they hadn’t ventured down to the playroom.

“Clay,” Malcolm said one night after they’d finished dinner. “Can we please go downstairs?”

“You think you’re ready?” Clay asked.

“I know I am,” Malcolm said. “Please, Clay. Please.” Malcolm was on the verge of actually getting down on his knees to beg, when he saw Clay give a small nod.

“Okay,” Clay said. “I have to admit, I missed marking that ass.”

Malcolm shivered and just barely resisted the urge to run downstairs. He smiled when Clay took his hand and led him to the staircase and down the stairs. Just at the bottom of the stairs was a plain brown door and Malcolm looked at Clay curiously.

“This isn’t my old house,” Clay said. “I had the whole room sound-proofed.”

Now wasn’t that an exciting idea? Malcolm could be as loud as he wanted and no one would hear him.

“Yeah, I can see you like that idea,” Clay said with a laugh as he opened the door and turned on the light.

Malcolm stood just inside the door and took everything in. The setup was the same as the room at Clay’s old place, but Malcolm could tell most of the equipment was new. Which made sense, given how long it had been.

“The bed is new,” Malcolm commented after a few minutes.

“It is,” Clay said. “So is the spanking bench.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but wince at the spanking bench.

“Think I prefer the bed,” Malcolm muttered, blushing when Clay gave him a swat on the ass.

“I bet you do,” Clay said. “Want to try it out?”

“Fuck yes,” Malcom said, blushing even more when Clay let out a loud laugh.

“Then strip.”

It never failed to amaze Malcolm how quickly Clay could turn - jovial one minute and domineering the next. Malcolm complied immediately, stripping down and putting everything in a little pile on the chair right next to the door.

“Face up or face down?” Malcolm asked.

“Face down,” Clay said. “Wanna reacquaint myself with that ass of yours.”

Malcolm groaned, but hurried across the room and climbed onto the bed, laying on his stomach. He turned his head away from the door wanting to let the suspense build as he waited for Clay. He didn’t have to wait too long - Clay secured Malcolm to the bed with restraints, wrist, ankle, ankle, wrist. Malcolm sighed when he felt Clay run a hand through his hair, then yelped when Clay gave his hair a sharp tug.

“Shit,” Malcolm gasped.

“And there’s my boy,” Clay said.

Malcolm hummed when he felt Clay run a hand down his back, caress his ass, then continue down his left leg. A few minutes later, Malcolm cried out when he felt the fronds of the flogger against his back. He strained against the restraints as Clay continued to work the flogger up and down Malcolm’s back, across Malcolm’s ass … The rhythm of the strikes, the feel of the fronds against Malcolm’s skin and it was like he’d never left.

“Clay, please,” Malcolm begged. “Please … “

“Just what I was waiting for,” Clay breathed.

Malcolm heard the tear of condom packaging, then gasped as he felt two lubed fingers pushed inside him.

“Clay,” Malcolm groaned.

“We’re going to get fucking tested,” Clay said. “We should have done it that first damn day, so we could do this right.”

“It’s always -” Malcolm gasped as Clay continued to stretch him. “- always right, Clay.”

“Fucking romantic,” Clay said. “Brace yourself, darlin’.”

The burn was intense and Malcolm cried out, wrapping his hands around the restraints to brace himself. It had been too long - yet with Clay inside him, it suddenly was so right. Malcolm arched into Clay’s thrusts, begging for Clay to touch me.

“Please,” Malcolm said. “I’m so close! Please, Clay!”

“That’s my bright boy.”

Malcolm felt Clay’s hand on his cock and, with just a few strokes, came. Hard. Malcolm collapsed onto the bed, humming happily at the slight stretch in his limbs, the warmth his back and ass radiated. He whimpered when he felt Clay release him from the restraints and gently massage his ankles and wrists.

“‘s nice,” Malcolm mumbled, humming again when he felt Clay run a hand down his back.

“You’re mine, Malcolm,” Clay whispered. “Not letting you go.”

“Yours.”

* * * 

“You seem happy.”

Malcolm glanced up from the files he’d been reviewing and gave Gil a smile.

“I am,” Malcolm said. “Really happy.”

“And the night terrors?” Gil asked.

“Gone,” Malcolm said. 

“It’s cuz the boy is getting some!” JT said from the other side of the table.

Malcolm shot JT a glare, then blushed when Gil raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you seeing someone?” Gil asked.

“Yeah, actually, I am,” Malcolm said.

“It’s not Edrisa, is it?” JT asked. “Or Dani?”

“What about me?” Dani appeared in the conference room.

“Just checking to make sure you and Malcolm aren’t at thing,” JT said.

“What? No. No offense, Malcolm,” Dani said.

“None taken,” Malcolm said. “And it’s not Edrisa, either. You guys don’t know him.” He waited for a reaction, any reaction, but didn’t get one.

“Do I need to run a background check?” Gil asked.

“God no,” Malcolm said. “I’ve known him since college.”

“We gonna meet him?” JT asked.

Malcolm just shrugged as he continued to review his files, jotting down notes.

“Oh come on, bring the dude by,” JT continued. “We’ll be nice.”

“JT,” Gil said. “Drop it.”

Malcolm gave Gil a grateful smile; he wasn’t used to have people so interested and apparently invested in his dating and sex life - it was strange. Malcolm continued to work for a few more hours in the conference room, going over the files, providing Gil, Dani and JT with his notes.

“M!”

Malcolm jumped and dropped his pen when he heard Clay’s voice coming from the doorway.

“Clay,” Malcolm said. “What are you -”

“Was nearby and thought I’d stop by and make sure you got something to eat,” Clay said. 

“Is this -?” JT started.

“Guys, this is Clay,” Malcolm said, closing and rearranging his files. “Clay, this is JT, Dani and Gil.”

“Hello,” Clay said, giving everyone a wave. “So, can you go? I can always come back.”

“No, it’s fine,” Gil said. “Go on, Malcolm. We have enough to work on here.”

“Thanks.” Malcolm shrugged his coat on and rounded the table, squeaking when Clay pulled him in for a hug and a sweet kiss. 

“I passed a Greek place on the way here,” Clay said, tucking Malcolm against his side. “Have you been there?”

“Y-yeah,” Malcolm said. “It’s good.”

“Good,” Clay said. “Let’s get you fed then, M.”

“Um, see you guys tomorrow,” Malcolm said, giving everyone a wave as Clay led him from the station.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, Malcolm turned to Clay.

“You did that on purpose,” Malcolm accused.

“Me? Never,” Clay said with a grin. “I was nearby and I did want to take you out for food.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” Malcolm muttered. 

“Is that such a bad thing?” Clay asked. “Your coworkers knowing that you’re seeing someone and having sex on a very regular basis?”

“Just new territory,” Malcolm said. “Not used to it.”

“I know,” Clay said. “Part of the reason I did what I did.”

“Oh?” Malcolm asked.

“I said, right when we first started this, that I’d push your boundaries,” Clay said. “That hasn’t changed. So did I do that on purpose? You’re damn right I did.”

“I forgive you,” Malcolm said, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Clay’s cheek. “Let’s get some food.”

* * * 

“Last chance, M. Once we do this, there’s no turning back.”

“I understand the ramifications of what I’m doing,” Malcolm said. “But I can’t keep hiding you forever. And sooner or later, Mother or Ainsley is going to talk to Gil, JT or Dani and it would just be easier if everyone knew.”

“But this is kind of a splashy way to do it,” Clay said.

“Trust me, you want it this way,” Malcolm said. “Mother will be so busy playing hostess she won’t be able to give you the third degree.”

“Ah,” Clay said. “Understand your strategy a bit more, then. Lead on.”

Malcolm laughed and pressed a kiss to Clay’s cheek before leading the way down the sidewalk to the New York Public Library - Astor Hall, where his mother was hosting some party trying to raise money for one of her many charities. 

“Not to mention, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tuxedo before,” Malcolm said. “Very dashing.”

“Don’t recall seeing you in one either,” Clay said. “Although I prefer you in less, the tuxedo is a good look for you.”

“I don’t normally have an occasion to wear a tux,” Malcolm said, feeling his cheeks warm at Clay’s words.

“Me in a tux is a rare occurrence,” Clay said. “Prefer jeans.”

“Clearly,” Malcolm replied. “Maybe I could get a picture of you tonight? Keep it in my phone?”

“Maybe,” Clay replied. “For now, let’s navigate the socialites and get inside - I need a drink.”

Malcolm laughed and led the way inside, immediately finding a waiter with champagne. He grabbed two flutes and passed one to Clay.

“I suspect there’s nothing stronger, so this’ll have to do,” Clay said.

“Don’t think we’re going to find bourbon here,” Malcolm said. “Although we do actually have to find my mother so I can let her know I’m actually here before she sends out a search party.”

“Best to get it over with, then,” Clay said.

Malcolm glanced over and watched as Clay downed the champagne in just a couple of swallows and grabbed another glass off the tray of a passing waiter.

“Nervous?” Malcolm asked with a grin.

“Been a long time since I was introduced to someone’s parents, M,” Clay said. “And these are not normal circumstances.”

“No, they definitely are not,” Malcolm said. He’d told his mother he was bringing someone to the event with him, but he hadn’t gone into further detail. He searched the crowds and spotted his mother across the room, chatting with his sister and whoever Ainsley had brought as her plus one. Taking Clay’s free hand in his and giving it a squeeze, Malcolm led the way through the throngs of people until he reached his mother and sister.

“... I’m going to send a text to - Malcolm!” Jessica said. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Here, Mother,” Malcolm said. “Just as I promised. Mother, Ainsley, you might remember Clay Russell.”

“One of your professors at Harvard,” Jessica said. “I remember.”

“Right,” Malcolm said. “Well, he’s since retired and living here in the city.”

“I don’t remember him being on the invite list,” Jessica said, narrowing her gaze at Clay.

“He wasn’t,” Malcolm said. “He’s my plus one.”

“I see,” Jessica said. “And just how long -”

Before Jessica could begin her third degree, she got called away to deal with some issue the caterer was having. 

“See? Too busy playing hostess,” Malcolm said.

“Malcolm,” Ainsley said. “This is a new development. Or is it?”

“No playing reporter tonight, Ains,” Malcolm said. “Did Mother already give your date the third degree?” 

“No, because she’s already met him,” Ainsley said. “So she already got her questions in.”

“And he survived,” Malcolm said. “I’m impressed.”

Malcolm hadn’t really been paying attention to who Ainsley’s date was, but when he turned his attention to the man, he almost dropped his champagne. 

“Malcolm this is Jameson Briggs,” Ainsley said. “Jameson, this is my brother Malcolm and his date Clay. Jameson just graduated med school and is doing his residency at Columbia Presbyterian.”

Malcolm somehow managed to not let the shock show on his face, and graciously shook Jameson’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Malcolm said.

Jameson thankfully played along, greeting Malcolm and Clay as if for the first time - even though Malcolm knew different. 

“My brother works with the New York Police Department as a profiler, consulting on homicides,” Ainsley said. “And Clay -”

“Used to be a Harvard professor and am now trying my hand at writing,” Clay said with a smile.

“And how long have you two been seeing each other?” Ainsley asked with a grin.

“A few months,” Malcolm said. 

“You sure about that?” Ainsley asked.

“Ains,” Malcolm warned. “No.”

“Okay,” Ainsley said. “But sooner or later I’ll find out. I always do.”

“Uh-huh,” Malcolm said. “So, is there food?”

“Just fancy finger foods,” Jameson said. “Nothing substantial.”

“We’ll get something on the way home after this,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled and nodded, letting Clay pull him close and tuck Malcolm against his side.

“You two are super cute,” Ainsley said. “Come on, let’s get some fancy finger foods.”

She took off in the direction of food and Malcolm just sighed. 

“We’d better follow,” Malcolm said, setting off after his sister, motioning for Clay and Jameson to follow. “Good to see you by the way, Jameson.”

“Good to see you, too,” Jameson said. “You too, Clay.”

“Glad you’re doin’ well,” Clay said. “Ainsley keeping you on your toes?”

“Honestly, we’re both so busy that we barely have time for each other,” Jameson said. “But I think she likes it that way.”

“She might,” Malcolm said as they reached his sister.

“I might what?” Ainsley said.

“Be the busiest reporter in the city,” Malcolm said.

“Not hardly,” Ainsley replied. “But I appreciate you thinking so.”

Malcolm smiled and moved past his sister to fix himself a small plate of finger foods. Thankfully his mother’d had him in mine and had made sure there were things that Malcolm could eat. Plate fixed, Malcolm turned to watch the crowds of people.

“No profiling,” Clay teased. “It’s supposed to be a night off.”

“Hard habit to break,” Malcolm said.

“I know,” Clay said.

They stood on the fringes of the crowds and nibbled on food, watching as Ainsley and Jameson decided to navigate the crowds and mingle. Every once and a while Malcolm caught sight of his mother trying to reach them, but something or someone always managed to pull her away.

“Honestly not sure how much longer I can stand to be here,” Malcolm murmured.

“Well if you can hang out for a bit longer,” Clay said, “I have a request.”

“Oh?” Malcolm said.

“Would you care to dance?” Clay said.

“Dance? With you?” Malcolm asked.

“Well, I sure as shit wouldn’t ask you to dance with someone else,” Clay said said. “Yes, I want you to dance with me, M.”

“I’d love to,” Malcolm said, smiling as he let Clay take his hand and lead him out onto the dancefloor in the middle of the event space. Malcolm could feel everyone’s eyes on them - they were the only same sex couple out on the floor - but as soon as Clay pulled him close, Malcolm forgot about all of it.

“Just let me lead,” Clay murmured.  
“I can do that,” Malcolm replied softly as Clay started to lead him around the dancefloor. “So remind me, where did you learn to dance?”

“When I was in junior college,” Clay said. “After what happened at the bar. I did some physical therapy and one of my mentors suggested dance lessons. Helped me get my feet back under me, get a bit more agile.”

“Well, you dance beautifully,” Malcolm murmured.

“I know,” Clay replied.

“So fucking cocky,” Malcolm said with a grin.

“You love it,” Clay said.

“I do,” Malcolm said.

They’d never said the words - not back then, not now. But they both knew how they felt about each other. The words weren’t necessary.

When the dance ended, Malcolm smiled when Clay leaned down and kissed him sweetly.

“Let’s get out of here,” Clay said.

“Yes, let’s,” Malcolm agreed.

Malcolm snagged Clay’s hand and led the way off the dancefloor … and ran right into Jessica.

“Mother,” Malcolm said. “Clay and I were just leaving.”

“Mmmhmm,” Jessica said. “Don’t think you’ve escaped anything, Clay.”

“No, Mrs. Whitly,” Clay said. “Or are you going by Milton now?”

“No, still Whitly,” Jessica said. “And I’d love it if you came for dinner next Sunday.”

“I’d love to,” Clay said.

“Lovely,” Jessica said. “Have a good evening.”

“You too, Mrs. Whitly,” Clay said.

“Good night, Mother,” Malcolm said, practically dragging Clay from the event.

“Good night!” Jessica called.

“You agreed to Sunday dinner,” Malcom said as they reached the street.

“I did,” Clay said. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Malcolm said. “Thank you.”

“Why?”

“My mother can be a lot,” Malcolm said. “So thank you.”

“I think I’m ready for the third degrees,” Clay said. “Better we just come clean about everything.”

“Everything?” Malcolm said.

“Okay, not everything,” Clay said. “But about your college days.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said as they headed down the street to wear the car they’d arranged for waited - neither of them had wanted to navigate subways in tuxes. “Also, Jameson?”

“Now that was a shock,” Clay said. “I didn’t know he was in the city.”

“Neither did I,” Malcolm said. “When we parted ways, he was looking for hospitals in Virginia for residency. No idea what happened to bring him here, but good for him.”

“And Ainsley looked enamoured,” Clay said. 

“Good,” Malcolm said. “She deserves happiness.”

“So do you,” Clay said.

“I know,” Malcolm said as they reached the car and climbed in.

“Do you?” Clay asked. “Because sometimes I wonder.”

“I do,” Malcolm said. “I know I deserve happiness. And I have it. WIth you.”

“My little romantic,” Clay murmured.

“Yours.”

* * * 

Gil glanced up from his computer when he saw Clay enter his office.

“Clay, what’s wrong?” GIl asked.

“I was supposed to meet Malcolm for lunch and he didn’t show,” Clay said. “I tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. Malcolm always answers when I call.”

“Okay,” Gil said slowly. “That is unlike Malcolm.”

“Exactly,” Clay said. “Can we maybe ping his phone or something?”

“Not without a warrant,” Gil said. “And he’s not technically a missing person, at least not yet.”

“Can anyone file a missing person’s report?” Clay said.

“Yes,” Gil said. 

“Then tell my what I need to fill out,” Clay said.

“Follow me,” Gil said.

* * * 

_One Year Later_

“And how did your publisher’s meeting go?” Jessica asked.

“Pretty well,” Clay replied. “They have high hopes for the book sales, especially with it being released so close to the holidays.”

“That’s good,” Jessica said. “I’ll make sure it gets put into the rounds for my book club.”

“Thank you, Jessica,” Clay said. “I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts, but I’m glad we worked things out.”

“I admit I had my reservations about you and my son, but when I saw how happy Ma-Malcolm was with you,” Jessica said.

Clay winced when he heard Jessica’s voice break over Malcolm’s name. A year later and there was still no word about about Malcolm - Gil and his team had followed up on every lead but … it was hard not to get disheartened. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Jessica’s phone ring.

“This is - Gil? Gil, what’s going - what?”

When the phone suddenly dropped from Jessica’s hand, Clay reacted quickly and caught it.

“Gil?” Clay asked.

“We got him.”

“What?” Clay whispered.

“Malcolm,” Gil said. “We found him. We’re out at a farm in the country somewhere - he’s going to get airlifted to -”

“Columbia Presbyterian,” Clay said. “Send him to Columbia Presbyterian.” Jameson was still doing his residency there and Clay felt better having someone he knew there to keep an eye on things.

“Got it,” Gil said. “It’ll be at least an hour before he’s there -”

“We’ll be waiting at the hospital when he gets there,” Clay said. “Can you tell me -”

“He’s a little thin, a little dirty, but no broken bones, no other visible injuries,” Gil said.

Clay didn’t miss how Gil said ‘visible’. 

“We’ll see you at the hospital,” Clay said, hanging up and turning to Jessica.

“Thank you,” Jessica whispered. “Let me just get a few things together and we can go.”

“Before we go,” Clay said. “There’s something we need to discuss here. Not in front of Malcolm. When he’s released from the hospital, whenever that is, he’s coming to my house.”

“Your - this is his home,” Jessica said. “And I am his mother.”

“I understand that,” Clay said. “But, no offense, this place is not going to be conducive to him healing. This place is full of memories of his father, and you and I both know those will not help him heal.”

Clay waited patiently while Jessica remained silent.

“I get to come visit him whenever I want,” Jessica said.

“With advance notice,” Clay said.

“Deal,” Jessica said. “I know you have his best interests at heart.”

“I do,” Clay said. “I really do.”

* * *

Everything seemed to move both at lightning speed and a snail’s pace as Malcolm was rescued. He’d heard movement in the downstairs of the rundown farmhouse he’d been held at for … who knew how long? But he dismissed it as his captor puttering around, which was a normal occurrence. 

But then he’d heard yelling and gunshots and Malcolm began feebly searching for a way to free himself from the shackle that kept him stuck to that bed and in that room, with only enough chain for him to reach a corner of the room, where a bucket sat for him to relieve himself.

When the door opened and Malcolm spotted the SWAT team and, behind them Gil and the rest of the team, he’d almost sobbed.

“Malcom?” Gil asked.

Malcolm nodded - he knew he didn’t look himself at all. Hair down past his shoulders and a wild scruff of beard made him almost unrecognizable, even to himself.

“Someone get the bolt cutters!” Gil yelled, then turned back to Malcolm. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

After that, everything had been a blur. Someone had arrived with bolt cutters and very quickly after that Malcolm had been moved to a gurney, then to a helicopter … the EMT gave him something to sedate him and Malcolm fell asleep.

When Malcolm came to, he knew he was in a hospital. He could smell the antiseptic, feel the sterile sheets under him and hear the heart monitor. 

“That doesn’t even look like him.”

Malcolm tried to maintain blissful unawareness when he heard his mother speak.

“Of course it does, I’d know my boy anywhere.”

At the sound of Clay’s voice, Malcolm couldn’t help but react. The heart monitor picked it up and Clay laughed.

“And he’s awake,” Clay said. “Come on, M, open those eyes for me.

Malcolm slowly opened his eyes, squinting a bit at the brightness of the flourescent lights of the hospital. He blinked a couple of times and looked up to see Clay and his mother standing by his bed.

“See Jessica? It’s him,” Clay said. “I’d know those eyes anywhere.”

“Oh honey, we’re so happy to see you,” Jessica said. “How are you feeling?”

Malcolm hesitated for a minute. “Okay,” he whispered, wincing when even whispering hurt his throat.

“And no more talking,” Clay said. “We’ll stick to yes or no questions, then. Do you know where you are?”

Malcolm nodded - he knew he was in a hospital.

“And you know who we are?” Clay continued.

Malcolm smiled and nodded again.

“Well that’s good,” Clay said. “Do you know what the date it?”

Malcolm frowned and shook his head - he’d lost track of time when he’d been … gone.

“You’ve been gone a year, almost to the day,” Clay said softly.

That gave Malcolm pause - a year? He’d missed a year. He knew he’d been gone a while but to find out it had been a full year.

“Have you been seen by a doctor?” Jessica asked.

Malcolm shrugged.

“We’re going to invest in a whiteboard or something so you can communicate,” Clay said. “For when you’re here and for however long you need it after you get released.”

Malcolm just nodded.

“I’m going to go look for a nurse,” Jessica said. “Or your doctor.”

Malcolm watched her go, then turned his attention back to Clay. He looked at Clay carefully, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the new wrinkles, the new gray hairs. Malcolm got a hand out from under the sheets and motioned for Clay to come closer. Once closer, Malcolm grabbed one of Clay’s hands and just held it.

“Just so you know,” Clay said. “I already talked to your mother, and when you get released, you’re coming home with me.”

Malcolm frowned and pointed to Clay, surprised.

“Yep,” Clay said. “We’re actually on pretty good terms, your mother and I. Also, first chance we get, I’m going to help you get a real shower.”

Malcolm gave Clay a smile and pressed a kiss to their twined hands. He’d have said something if it didn’t hurt, but - 

“Look who I found!” Jessica said as she re-entered the room, Jameson right behind her. “Doctor Briggs.”

“Good to see you Jameson,” Clay said. 

“Heard you requested Malcolm be brought here,” Jameson replied.

“Well if I can’t be here all the time, I’d like it if a familiar face to be around for him,” Clay said.

“Well, I feel like I’m here all the time,” Jameson said with a smile. “It’s good to see you, Malcolm. Ainsley called me very excited when she heard you’d been found. And no, don’t say anything.”

“We already established the fact that Malcolm will be doing no talking for the foreseeable future,” Clay said.

“Good idea,” Jameson said. “They ran a battery of tests when they brought Malcolm in -”

“And?” Jessica interrupted.

“And most of them aren’t back yet,” Jameson said.

Malcolm grinned - his mother needed more people around her who wouldn’t put up with her bull.

“I sense a ‘but’,” Clay said.

“But, I can see here that they called in a specialist after the xray when they noticed something odd in Malcolm’s throat,” James said. “Looks like he has Muscle Tension Dysphonia and apparently had multiple vocal cord hemorrhages that tried to heal over.”

Malcolm stared down at Clay’s fingers still interlaced with his.

“Did a lot of talking, then?” Clay said.

Malcolm nodded. He’d talked, yelled, screamed, cried … 

“Then no talking for a while,” Jessica said.

“We’ll try ten days and see what everything looks like,” Jameson said.

“Sounds good to me,” Clay said.

“Looks like they’ve got Malcolm on high calorie soft foods,” Jameson continued, “to try to get his weight up.”

“He is very skinny,” Jessica said. “Do you know how long we can stay?”

“Visiting hours are over in about half an hour,” Jameson said. 

“Will you be okay?” Jessica said.

Malcolm gave another nod and waved her off.

“Thank you, Jameson,” Jessica said, then turned back to Malcolm. “I’m going to talk to your sister and let her know what’s going on. She said she’d come see you tomorrow.”

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer,” Clay said, looking down at his and Malcolm’s twined hands.

“Right,” Jessica said. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Malcolm.”

“Guess she doesn’t like hospitals,” Clay commented.

Malcolm shook his head and pointed at himself with his free hand.

“I suspect you don’t either, but you’re pretty much stuck,” Clay said. “Do you remember the last time you washed your hair?”

Malcolm blinked at the non sequitur but thought back and held up two fingers.

“Two days? Okay, I’m going to be right back,” Clay said as he stood and tried to step away from the bed. “M, you gotta let go of my hand, darlin’.”

Malcolm glanced down to where he was still clinging to Clay’s hand and nodded, slowly releasing his grip.

“I’ll be right back,” Clay said. “Promise.”

Malcolm watched Clay leave and then immediately tried to tamp down on the panic that immediately started to rise. He resorted to counting slowly. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. He breathed a sigh of relief when Clay appeared back in the doorway.

“Woah, woah,” Clay said, hurrying across the room. “I’m back. I’m back, M. Take a deep breath, darlin’. Your heart monitor’s going crazy.”

Malcolm nodded and took a few deep breaths, then a few more.

“There go you,” Clay said soothingly. “Maybe I’ll talk to the doctor and see if I can stay here. Unless they heavily sedate you.”

Malcolm shook his head.

“Well let’s take care of this first, then I’ll find a doctor,” Clay said. “Can you sit up a bit? Maybe turn a little?”

Malcolm fumbled with the bed control, getting himself up a bit before turning as much as he could.

“Can’t say I hate this hair,” Clay commented. “Not sure yet about the beard, but this? I think I like this.”

Malcolm hummed when he felt Clay’s fingers in his hair gently extricating out the big knots before gently brushing Malcolm’s hair. Clay worked from the bottom up, getting rid of all the knots, before brushing Malcolm’s hair from root to tip with gentle, soothing strokes. Malcolm could have fallen asleep, but then Clay stopped and began carding his fingers through Malcolm’s hair. It took Malcolm a few minutes to realize Clay was braiding Malcolm’s hair. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. When he felt Clay secure the end of the braid with a band and let the braid thump against his back, Malcolm turned and gave Clay a bright smile.

“Better,” Clay said. “Now, will you be okay if I go look for a doctor to see if I can stay tonight?”

Malcolm nodded. He’d be fine.

“Okay,” Clay said, then reached for the controls and turned on the television. “Profile some people while I’m gone.”

Malcolm tried to focus on the tv while Clay was gone, searching through the channels until he found something he thought would keep him occupied. It did.

For a little bit.

Then Malcolm could feel tendrils of panic wrap around his heart. He knew Clay had just gone to get the doctor. Malcolm knew he was safe in the hospital. Malcolm knew he was safe. His logical mind knew all these things.

But his mind and body were apparently not in synch because Malcolm felt the panic increase.

“Just in time.”

Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Clay in the door, with a doctor behind him.

“This is Doctor Anderson,” Clay said. “He’s the attending - Jameson’s boss.”

“Doctor Briggs, he’s a good doctor,” Doctor Anderson said. “Mr. Bright, I’ve read your file and talked to Mr. Russell. I also happen to know a bit about your family history, and I heard the EMTs talking when they brought you in. So, when Mr. Russell requested a cot so he could stay with you tonight, I had no problem saying yes.”

Malcolm breathed another sigh of relief.

“I also took the liberty of bringing you this,” Doctor Anderson said, producing a pad of paper and a pen. “At least until someone gets you a whiteboard.”

A nurse came in with a cot, pillow and blanket and passed them to Clay, who immediately set it up next to Malcom’s bed.

“Thank you, doctor,” Clay said.

“Honestly, Mr. Bright will probably be released in a couple of days,” Doctor Anderson said. “With some heavy restrictions, of course.”

“Of course,” Clay replied.

“We just want to make sure Mr. Bright is well on his road to recovery,” Doctor Anderson said.

“Understandable,” Clay said.

“A nurse will come back later to check his vitals,” Doctor Anderson said. “And I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”

Malcolm nodded , waiting until both the doctor and nurse had left before grabbing the pad of paper and pen.

‘Thank you for staying.’ Malcolm showed Clay the paper.

“Nothing to thank me for, darlin’,” Clay said. “Nowhere else I’d be.”

‘I’m sorry I’m so clingy.’

“You have every right to be clingy,” Clay said. “We’ll work through it. I’m just so fucking happy to have you back, M.”

When Malcolm looked closer at Clay, he realized Clay was trying not to cry. Malcolm sighed softly and smiled - it was so sweet how Clay was trying to be strong for him.

‘It’s okay to cry.’

Malcolm pointed to the paper and then to Clay. A few moments later, he found himself with Clay’s head in his lap, Clay crying softly. Malcolm blinked back his own tears as he ran fingers through Clay’s hair.

“I was so fuckin’ scared,” Clay whispered. “That they’d never find you. And now here you are. Alive and lookin’ a bit like Jesus, but you’re here.”

Malcolm huffed a soundless laugh and gave Clay’s hair a playful tug. When Clay lifted his head back up, Malcolm saw tears, but also saw a smile. And when Clay cupped his cheek, Malcolm sighed and leaned into the touch.

“This beard,” Clay said.

Malcolm just shrugged.

“Do you like it?” Clay asked.

Malcolm shrugged again - honestly he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror so he had no idea what he looked like.

“Do you want to see yourself?” Clay asked. 

Malcolm hesitated for a few minutes, then shook his head. 

‘Maybe tomorrow.’

“Maybe after a few good meals and a good shower,” Clay said. “Do you think you can sleep?”

Malcolm reached for Clay’s hand, held it tight, and nodded.

“I’m not going to go anywhere,” Clary promised. “I’ll be right here.”

Malcolm nodded and reclined the bed back. Careful of his IV, Malcolm rolled onto his side and watched Clay carefully. He had to release his hold on Clay’s hand so Clay could tug off his shoes and get situated on the cot, but then immediately grabbed Clay’s hand again.

“It’s going to be okay, Malcolm,” Clay murmured. “I promise.”

Malcolm nodded. Everything would be okay.

* * * 

“Holy shit, Malcolm.”

Malcolm just shrugged when Ainsley entered his hospital room. He’d startled a bit when he’d woken that morning - he’d forgotten he’d been rescued - but then he’d seen Clay lying on the cot next to his bed and sighed. 

He was safe.

“If Mother hadn’t confirmed the room number and Clay hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have known it was you,” AInsley said.

“You mean you can’t tell just from his eyes?” Clay asked with a grin as he entered the room carrying a tray. “Met one of your nurses outside with your breakfast so I relieved her of it.”

Malcolm gave Clay a grateful smile. It was easier during the day to keep the panic from overtaking him, there were more cues to remind him that he was okay.

“Looks like you’ve got some eggs and cottage cheese with canned peaches,” Clay said. “Good things to help get your weight up. Also looks like they gave you hot tea, Earl Grey if I smell it correctly.”

Malcolm frowned a bit as Clay set the tray on his lap.

“Not what you were hoping for?” Ainsley asked. 

Malcolm shrugged. ‘At least they didn’t try to give me pancakes.’

“Not with your throat the way it is,” Clay said.

“So, Mother didn’t tell me much, and Jameson was pretty close-lipped,” Ainsley said. “She said something about you not talking?”

“His vocal cords are damaged,” Clay said. “And he’s underweight.”

“Obviously,” Ainsley said. “You look positively gaunt.”

‘Thanks.’

“What? I’m being honest,” Ainsley said. “Any word on when you’re going to get out of here?”

“A couple of days,” Clay provided. “Just to make sure he’s on the mend.”

‘I’m going to be fine, Ains.’ Malcolm showed the pad of paper to Ainsley before glancing down at his tray of food. It didn’t actually look appetizing, but Malcolm knew he had to eat.

“If you eat all that, I’ll bring you a strawberry banana smoothie later,” Ainsley bargained.

‘Swear?’

“Swear,” Ainsley said.

Malcolm made a face but began to slowly eat breakfast.

“My rewards are things he can’t cash in on right now,” Clay said.

Malcolm coughed on a bite of egg and gave Clay a dirty look when Ainsley giggled.

“What? It’s true,” Clay said. 

Malcolm just rolled his eyes and kept picking at breakfast. It wasn’t horrible, but it certainly wasn’t like his own cooking, or Clay’s.

“I suppose I could tempt him with one of my omelets,” Clay said. “But that’s not nearly as fun as the other stuff.”

Malcolm sighed as he sipped his tea - it wasn’t as good as what he’d had at home, or at Clay’s, but it was serviceable. He shifted a bit to get comfortable, and didn’t realize that the sheets had moved and exposed his ankle until Ainsley let out a gasp.

“Your ankle!” Ainsley exclaimed.

Malcolm glanced down at the end of the bed, where his abraded and bruised ankle was clearly visible.

“I thought you weren’t injured,” Ainsley said. 

“It’s fine,” Clay said. “Just a little bruising. In a few weeks you won’t even remember it was there.”

Malcolm appreciated Clay trying to put Ainsley at ease.

“Malcolm,” Ainsley said softly. “What happened?”

‘It would take too much to write.’ Malcolm pushed the pad of paper towards her, then turned his attention to the rest of his food, smiling when Clay fixed the sheets, blocking his injured ankle from view.

“But you’ll tell me? Tell us?” Ainsley said. 

Malcolm nodded. He’d tell everyone what happened to him - eventually.

“In his own time, when he’s ready,” Clay said. “For now, he needs to focus on himself.”

“I agree,” Ainsley said. “But you’ll tell us?”

Malcolm pulled the pad of paper over and jotted down a note and showing his sister. 

‘As long as you don’t make me a story.’

“I wouldn’t,” Ainsley said.

Malcolm gave her a look and circled the note, pointing at it again.

“I won’t,” Ainsley said. “I swear.”

Malcolm nodded and finished his breakfast. 

“Ainsley! I didn’t know you were here,” Jameson said as he stepped into the room, pausing to press a kiss to Ainsley’s cheek. “Malcolm, good to see you a little more coherent this morning. Are you feeling better?”

Malcolm nodded - he was definitely feeling better.

“And you ate all your breakfast, that’s good,” Jameson said. “There was a bit of a concern about you keeping things down but this is good.”

Malcolm smiled, then looked pointedly at his sister.

“Ainsley promised him a strawberry banana smoothie,” Clay said, “if Malcolm finished his breakfast.”

“Good incentive,” Jameson said.

“I have to get to work,” Ainsley said. “But I’ll bring that smoothie by later, Malcolm.”

Malcolm smiled and nodded, giving his sister a little wave.

“I’ll be here for a while,” Jameson said, stopping Ainsley for another kiss. “So come find me when you come back to give Malcolm his smoothie.”

“I will,” Ainsley said.

Malcolm watched her leave, then collapsed against bed, clearly exhausted.

“You doin’ okay?” Clay asked.

Malcolm shrugged.

“Tired,” Clay said. 

“Well, I have a bit of good news,” Jameson said. “The attending cleared you for an actual shower, and a nurse is going to come and remove the IV.”

“He’s okay to be off the IV?” Clay asked.

“He’s being switched to oral,” Jameson said with a knowing grin.

“Well, he does like oral so much better,” Clay replied, chuckling softly.

‘Very funny.’ Malcolm frowned and watched the two of them.

“You know, that glare is actually more effective with the beard,” Jameson commented.

“But it loses something with the braid,” Clay added with a grin.

‘Shower?’ Malcolm tapped the pad of paper.

“Yeah,” Jameson said just as a nurse entered, moving to the bed and gently removing Malcolm’s IV. “Now, it’s not a big fancy shower, but I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

“I’m sure we can manage,” Clay said.

Malcolm winced a bit when the IV was removed, but was happy there was no … tether. Nothing inhibiting his movement.

“And,” Jameson said, “I brought your favorite - almond shower oil to wash, cedar oil shampoo and conditioner.”

“Oooh, the good stuff,” Clay said. “Want some help to the shower?”

Malcolm nodded. ‘Clothes?’

“Well, I brought some clean underwear and a pair of pajamas,” Jameson said, producing a bag and setting it on the bed. “If that’s okay with Clay.”

“Since I couldn’t go get him anything myself, I appreciate the thought,” Clay said with a nod.

‘You and Ains still together?’ Malcolm wrote and tapped the page.

“We are,” Jameson said. “We’re both still so busy - we find time to see each other though, so it works.”

‘Good. Don’t ever tell her about us.’

“Nope,” Jameson said. “I’ll take that secret to the grave. Anyway, I need to make rounds - Clay, keep Malcolm from falling in the shower, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Clay said. “Wish I’d brought a change of clothes, though.”

“Here,” Jameson said, producing another bag. “It’s just a clean set of scrubs, but it’s all I got.”

“Appreciated,” Clay said. “Really.”

“No problem,” Jameson said. “Someone’ll be around later to check on Malcolm.”

“We’ll make the shower quick,” Clay said. 

Once Jameson was gone and the door closed behind him, Clay moved to the side of the bed where Malcolm had moved, letting his legs dangle off the side of the bed. Malcolm looked up at Clay and smiled.

“Need help walkin’?” Clay asked gently.

Malcolm nodded and clung to Clay’s hands as Clay gently helped him to his feet. Malcolm wobbled a btit, but got his feet underneath him. Malcolm felt positively feeble as he shuffled from his bed to the bathroom, clinging to Clay’s arm, the body wash, shampoo and conditioner in a small bag hanging from Clay’s other arm.

“Slow,” Clay said softly. “We’re not in a race, take your time.”

Malcolm nodded, watching the floor as they walked. When they finally reached the bathroom, Malcolm purposely avoided his own reflection in the mirror as Clay helped him sit down on the toilet. Malcolm watched as Clay started the shower to warm the water, then stripped down. Malcolm sighed softly and smiled - even a year later, Clay was still in amazing shape. 

“Time to get you out of that hospital gown and into the shower,” Clay said.

Malcolm nodded and let Clay help him to his feet. Clay’s fingers were gentle against his skin as Clay untied the gown and removed it.

“Had I known you were commando earlier,” Clay teased as he reached around and undid Malcolm’s braid. “Let’s get you showered, okay?”

Malcolm nodded and let Clay help him into the shower. The water pressure left something to be desired, but the water was hot and Clay was there - it was the best shower Malcolm had ever had. Malcolm sighed and leaned against Clay, letting Clay gently wash his body and his hair.

“Fuck, M,” Clay whispered. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Malcolm butted his head against Clay’s shoulder. 

“But you’re so fuckin’ skinny,” Clay said softly as he rinsed the conditioner from Malcom’s hair. “I can see every rib, M.”

Malcolm sighed softly, running his hands over Clay’s shoulders. He couldn’t say anything, but he wanted Clay to know he’d be okay. He leaned forward a bit and pressed a kiss to Clay’s collarbone, nipping gently.

“None of that,” Clay said. “How about we clean this beard, yeah?”

Malcolm nodded, tipping his head back a bit to let Clay take care of his beard, first with the shampoo, then with the conditioner.

“Squeaky clean,” Clay murmured as he finished up. “We’ll get you dried off, dressed in clean clothes and then we’ll take care of your hair, okay?”

Malcolm smiled and nodded, leaning against Clay a bit as Clay turned off the water. Malcolm kept a grip on Clay’s arm as they stepped out of the shower. 

“Gonna get some meat on those bones,” Clay said gruffly as he grabbed a towel and wrung the excess water from Malcolm’s hair before taking a second towel and briskly drying Malcolm off. 

Malcolm sighed softly and let Clay take care of him. It had been so long since Clay had taken care of him. Malcolm sat on the toilet and waited while Clay quickly dried off, got dressed in scrubs and came back with the clothes for Malcolm.

“Here we go,” Clay said as he helped Malcolm stand and got him dressed. “Ready to go back to bed?”

Malcolm nodded, clinging again to Clay’s arm as he shuffled from the bathroom to the bed.

“Can I sit behind you and take care of your hair?” Clay asked.

Malcolm nodded and shifted around a bit to make space for Clay, sighing when he felt Clay sit behind him.

“Your hair is so straight,” Clay said. “Not one lick of curl in it.”

Malcolm smiled and relaxed a bit as Clay first combed, then brushed his hair. When Clay started to braid his hair, Malcolm sighed softly.

“Like my fingers, huh?” Clay asked.

Malcolm nodded.

“I think after this you should take a nap,” Clay said. “Probably not what you want to hear, but you’ve been through a lot of stress and what your body needs right now is sleep.”

Malcolm sighed as he felt the end of the braid against his back and nodded again.

“Good boy,” Clay murmured. “And I promise I’ll stay here while you sleep, okay?”

Malcolm nodded again and when Clay climbed off the bed, Malcolm laid down and rolled onto his side he could see Clay.

“Not going anywhere, M,” Clay said as he sat down on the cot next to the bed. “You sleep, I’ll be right here.”

Malcolm reached for Clay’s hand and, gripping it tight, allowed himself to drift off.

* * * 

“Your mother and Ainsley both want to stop by later,” Clay said as he helped Malcolm from the car. “But I told them to give me a head’s up and let you get settled.”

Malcolm nodded, clinging to Clay’s arm as he walked up the walk and navigated the stairs. It had been three days since he’d been rescued and he’d finally been released from the hospital. He was still on vocal rest, still taking the oral antibiotics and was still on a high calorie diet to get his weight up, but he was allowed to go home.

Or rather, Clay’s home.

Malcolm had honestly been surprised when Clay’d told him he’d be staying at Clay’s house while he convalesced. He’d expected to be shuttled off to his mother’s house to recover but then Clay had explained how he’d put his foot down and insisted Malcolm not go to his mother’s home.

“Do you want the couch or the bed?” Clay asked.

Malcolm pointed to the living room. He’d been in a bed too long - he wanted to be somewhere else other than a bed.

“Couch it is,” Clay said, directing Malcolm into the living room, getting him settled on the couch.

Malcolm sighed as he settled on the couch, tucking his feet underneath him. He gave Clay a smile when Clay tucked a light blanket around him.

“Are you hungry?” Clay asked.

Malcolm shook his head - he’d had breakfast at the hospital before being released.

“How about some tea?” Clay said.

Malcolm shook his head and pointed at Clay.

“You want me?” Clay asked.

Malcolm smiled and nodded. When Clay kicked off his shoes and joined him on the couch, Malcolm curled up against him, tucking his head on Clay’s shoulder.

“At some point,” Clay said, “I’m going to find out what happened during that year.”

Malcolm remained silent and played with a button on Clay’s flannel.

“And it’s not going to make me hate you,” Clay continued. “And it won’t make me pity you. It’ll only make me proud of you, for enduring and surviving until you could be rescued.”

Malcolm sniffed, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks. He slung an arm across Clay’s midsection and snuggled in close.

“My strong, brave, bright boy,” Clay whispered. “And I know it’s going to take a while for you to be able to talk about everything, but I promise I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Malcolm sniffed again and nodded. He was still working to process everything that had happened to him. The biggest thing was that he’d gone that whole year without any of his medications, which had forced him to come face to face with a lot of things from his childhood. Things he’d repressed, things he’d wanted to remember. All of it was thrown at him in living color.

Malcolm was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door. He frowned and glanced up at Clay.

“I told your mother and Ainsley to wait until dinnertime,” Clay said. “So it might be Gil. I told him to stop by if he had any news.”

Malcolm nodded and shifted so Clay could go get the door. When Clay came back a few minutes later, he brought Gil with him. Malcolm sat up a bit and gave Gil a tired wave.

“Malcolm,” Gil said. “How are you feeling?”

Malcolm gave Gil a small smile and a little shrug.

“Vocal rest,” Clay said. “For a few more days.”

“Ah,” Gil said. “Must be hard.”

Malcolm frowned when Clay chuckled softly.

“Probably a little,” Clay said. “But he’s doing good. So, what can we do for you, Gil?”

“I just wanted to stop by and let you know how the case was progressing,” Gil said. “After you were airlifted, we waited for the owner to return to the premises and we took her into custody.”

“Her?” Clay said.

“Yeah,” Gil said. “She’s being held in the psychiatric ward of the hospital right now.”

“I see,” Clay said. “Is she saying anything?”

“Yelling for her muse, that her mouthpiece to the Surgeon has been confiscated and must be returned,” Gil said.

Malcolm bit his lip and stared down at the blanket on his lap.

“So she’s probably going to try for an insanity defense,” Clay said. 

“Maybe,” GIl said. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. So Malcolm, gonna keep the hair and beard?”

Malcolm shrugged.

“We’re still figuring it out,” Clay said. “Although two beards is different for kissing.”

Malcolm smiled when Clay leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss - he was right, two beards was different for kissing.

“I did bring a strawberry banana smoothie,” Gil said. 

Malcolm grinned and snatched it from Gil’s hands, drinking it greedily.

“I will definitely make sure to keep you in the loop regarding the case,” Gil said. “And I know you wrote a statement out while you were in the hospital, but once you’re talking again we’ll probably need to go over it.”

Malcolm just nodded.

“Thank you, Gil,” Clay said. “We really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Gil said. “Really. And now I have to get going.”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Clay said.

Malcolm nodded his agreement and gave Gil a wave as Gil stood and headed for the door.

“I’ll see myself out, you guys stay where you are,” Gil said.

“It was nice of him to stop by,” Clay said as Gil left, the front door closing softly behind him.

Malcolm nodded and sipped his smoothie.

“Do you want to watch television?” Clay asked.

Malcolm set his smoothie down on the coffee table and shook his head, curling up against Clay on the couch.

“Cuddling is good, too,” Clay said with a chuckle. “I’ll set an alarm so we wake up for lunch.”

Malcolm smiled and tucked his head on Clay’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting himself relax, safe on the couch next to Clay.

* * * 

“Now, there is still a little swelling, but I want you to try to say something.”

Malcolm blinked up at Dr. Anderson - Clay had taken him back to the hospital for a check up. They’d run another battery of tests, took another blood sample and then they’d placed him and Clay in a small examination room to wait for Dr. Anderson.

“Just say ‘My name is Malcolm Bright’,” Doctor Anderson said.

Malcolm licked his lips and swallowed, giving Clay a look before …

“My name is Malcolm Bright,” Malcolm said softly.

“Did that hurt at all?” Dr. Anderson asked.

“No,” Malcolm said, smiling a bit.

“That’s good. Now, I wouldn’t suggest any yelling or lots of talking,” Dr. Anderson said. “But you are cleared for speech.”

“That’s great,” Clay said.

“And everything else looks good and your weight is up,” Dr. Anderson continued. “I’d like you to come back in a few more weeks to check your vocal cords and make sure you’re weight’s up and you’re on the right track for a full recovery.”

“What about exercise?” Clay asked.

“Light exercise,” Dr. Anderson said. “Nothing too strenuous. Light yoga should be okay, jogging too, but keep it limited to just a couple miles. We’ll check in again in a few weeks and see how he’s progressing.”

“Sounds fine,” Malcolm said softly.

“See the nurse’s station to set up a return visit,” Dr. Anderson said. “And don’t overdo it.”

Malcolm nodded as he climbed off the exam table, smiling when Clay was at his side. Malcolm linked his arm with Clay’s and made his way from the exam room to the nurse’s station.

“Maybe we can start doing yoga again,” Clay said.

“Just not at six in the morning,” Malcolm said softly.

“Don’t want to get up with the sun?” Clay teased.

“Hell no.”

“Duly noted,” Clay said, laughing softly.

Once they’d finished at the nurses station, Malcolm led the way out onto the street, pausing for a moment to stand, eyes closed, and feel the sun on his face.

“Feels nice,” Malcolm said.

“I bet,” Clay said. “Also? It’s really nice to hear your voice again. I missed it.”

“I did, too,” Malcolm admitted. “So, what do we want to do for the rest of the day?”

“Well,” Clay said slowly, “I actually have a meeting with my publisher about the release date for my book.”

“You finished it,” Malcolm said. “That’s great.”

“Thanks,” Clay said. “Anyway, I was thinking - why don’t I drop you off with Xavier for a little relaxation while I take my meeting and then I’d be back to pick you up.”

Malcolm frowned a bit - he’d been so used to having Clay with him at all times the past almost two weeks. He was a little uncertain about being alone.

“Xavier,” Malcolm said. “You mean from New Years’ Eve all those years ago?”

“The same one,” Clay replied. “I figured you could make some decisions about what to do with your hair and the beard.”

“You want it gone?” Malcolm asked.

“No,” Clay said. “I’ve gotten used to kissing you with the beard and I like your hair. I love you any way I can get you. The decision is for you to make, M.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said quietly. “And you won’t care what I do?”

“Cut your hair, shave the beard, do one or the other, or keep it all,” Clay replied. “I’ll still love you.”

The words were said so easy and it made Malcolm so happy.

“I love you, too,” Malcolm whispered. “So very much, Clay.”

“So, is that okay? Seeing Xavier?” Clay asked.

“Yeah,” Malcolm murmured. “That’s okay. You’ll be a phone call away, right?”

“Right,” Clay said.

“Then I can do it,” Malcolm said.

“That’s my bright boy,” Clay said, helping Malcolm into the waiting car.

Malcolm got situated and buckled, smiling when Clay joined him in the car. He leaned over and rested his head on Clay’s shoulder as the car made its way through the city. The radio played quietly but past that, Malcolm could hear the sounds of the city … it was oddly comforting.

When the car came to a stop, Malcolm looked across Clay out the window and smiled. The barbershop looked exactly the same as it had when he’d been there so many years before.

“Ready? Xavier is expecting you,” Clay said.

“Coming in with me?” Malcolm asked.

“For a bit, reintroduce you to Xavier before I go to my meeting,” Clay said.

Malcolm waited for Clay to get out, then slid out of the car and stood next to Clay on the sidewalk for a few seconds.

“Whatever I want,” Malcolm said.

“Whatever you want,” Clay replied.

Malcolm smiled and let Clay lead the way inside, sticking close to Clay’s side as Clay talked to the receptionist. A few minutes later, Clay was directing Malcolm back to the back of the barbershop. 

“Clay!”

“Xavier!” Clay said, greeting the other man with a smile and a big hug. Malcolm looked at the man and smiled - he, like Clay, was a bit grayer but still looked the same.

“You were just here a few weeks ago,” Xavier said.

“Not here for me,” Clay said. “We’re here for Malcolm.”

“Malcolm,” Xavier said. “Wait, not that young man you brought to see me, what ten years ago?”

“Yeah, make me feel old,” Clay said. “Yes, that Malcolm. Can you help him out?”

Malcolm felt the weight of Xavier’s gaze and resisted the urge to stare at the floor.

“I think we can help him out,” Xavier said.

“Perfect,” Clay said.

Malcolm suddenly found himself wrapped in Clay’s arms and smiled.

“I’ll be fine,” Malcolm whispered.

“I’m a phone call away,” Clay said. “And I’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick you up.”

“Go, meet with your publisher,” Malcolm said. “I’m going to be just fine here with Xavier.”

“He’s in very good hands,” Xavier said. “Go, come back and be surprised.”

“Fine, fine,” Clay said. “I’m going.”

Malcolm grinned as Clay headed towards the entrance, leaving him and Xavier alone.

“So,” Xavier said. “Want to tell me about this look we’ve got going on here?”

Malcolm shrugged as he went and sat down, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He was slowly getting used to the slightly scraggly beard and the long hair.

“I’ve had a bad year,” Malcolm said.

“We’ve all had them, honey,” Xavier said. “So, any thoughts about what you want to do?”

Malcolm shrugged again.

“I kind of like how it looks,” Malcolm said. “But it looks a little -”

“Scraggly,” Xavier said. “So, how about we clean up the beard a bit, do a deep conditioning treatment and a trim on the hair and see what we think?”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said with a smile.

Xavier chatted as he got Malcolm caped, asking about what had been going on in Malcolm’s life since they’d last seen each other Malcolm chatted in vague terms about school and work, avoiding what had happened to him in the last year.

“So you and Clay are back together, huh?” Xavier asked.

Malcolm smiled and nodded.

“We are,” he said.

“Good,” Xavier said. “He needs a good man in his life. Now, hold still and tell me if you’re going to sneeze or cough.”

“Got it,” Malcolm said, trying to remain still as Xavier came in close with the clippers. When Xavier stepped aside and Malcolm saw his reflection, he smiled. Trimmed down a bit, the scraggly hairs removed, it looked so much better.

“You suit a beard,” Xavier said. “I mean, you were adorable all those years ago with your baby face, but this is good too.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm said. “I think I like it, too.”

“Okay, so the beard was easy,” Xavier said. “We’ll wash it later and maybe do a bit of beard oil at the end of it all. But your hair? It’s super dry.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said. “So how do we fix it? Do we have to cut it?”

“Fuck no,” Xavier said. “We can do a deep conditioning treatment and it’ll be good as new.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said again. 

“So, we’ll wash first, then do the deep conditioning,” Xavier said. “Then do the trim and you’ll be good to go!”

“I put my hair in your hands,” Malcolm said.

“It’ll be the best decision you ever make,” Xavier said.

Malcolm chuckled and let Xavier lead him over to the sinks. He laid back and let Xavier wash his hair - he was no Clay when it came to hair washing, but it was nice. They moved back over to Xavier’s station and Malcolm sat back down and watched in the mirror as Xavier worked the deep conditioner through his hair, then covered his hair in a shower cap.

“Now that’s a look,” Malcolm muttered.

“I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t necessary,” Xavier said. “And to add to the look, we’re gonna stick you under a dryer for thirty minutes.”

“Starting to feel like a trophy wife,” Malcolm said as he followed Xavier over to the dryers.

“Trophy wives ain’t got nothing on you, honey,” Xavier said.

Malcolm just laughed and sat down, getting situated. The dryer turned on and Malcolm sighed, then took out his phone to text Clay.

‘Feel like a trophy wife.’

‘Do tell.’

Malcolm chuckled, then decided to send Clay a selfie. Posing it just right so it only showed his eyes and dryer, Malcolm sent the picture off to Clay with a grin.

The heart eyes emoji Clay sent back made Malcolm laugh out loud.

“Feeling cooked?” 

Xavier appeared in front of Malcolm and gave him a smile.

“A little,” Malcolm said.

“Well, you’re ready for a rinse,” Xavier said.

Malcolm went back to the sinks and hummed as Xavier rinsed the conditioner from his hair, carefully washed and conditioned his beard, then gently towel dried his hair.

“So, how much are we cutting?” Xavier asked when Malcolm was back in front of the mirror.

“Just a trim,” Malcolm said.

“Can I layer the ends a bit so it flows a bit better?” Xavier asked.

“I trust your judgment,” Malcolm said.

“Of course you do,” Xavier said. “Now sit tight and let me work my magic.”

Malcolm hummed and nodded, watching in the mirror as Xavier combed and snipped, combed and snipped, sending tiny bits of hair floating to the ground. When Xavier was finished, he pulled Malcolm’s hair back in a small ponytail, then added a bit of cedar scented oil to Malcolm’s beard.

“Like a prince in a fairytale,” Xavier said as he whisked the cape off Malcolm.

Malcolm stood and approached the mirror, looking at his reflection. He still looked a bit tired, but he looked … good.

“I like it,” Malcolm said.

“Of course you do,” Xavier said. “We should get you on a set schedule for upkeep. You could come in with Clay. Come on, let’s get you set up.”

“That’s a good idea,” Malcolm said as he followed Xavier up to the front of the shop. 

When they reached the front, Malcolm smiled when he saw Clay waiting there for him. He moved around Xavier and wrapped Clay in a hug.

“Looks like you did okay without me,” Clay said.

“I did,” Malcolm said. “Xavier kept me distracted.”

“I’m sure he did,” Clay said. “Now let me look at you.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes but stepped back so Clay could look at him.

“Do you want me to turn?” Malcolm asked impishly.

“Actually, yes,” Clay said, motioning for Malcolm to turn for him.

Malcolm rolled his eyes again but complied, turning in a slow circle.

“I like it,” Clay said.

“We were just about to get him on a schedule with you,” Xavier said.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Clay said.

Malcolm hummed happily when Clay tugged Malcolm against side and slung his arm across Malcolm’s shoulders to keep him close as they chatted with the receptionist and set Malcolm on a schedule for return visits.

“Thank you, Xavier,” Malcolm said as he and Clay were heading out. 

“It was my pleasure,” Xavier said. “See you in a month or so.”

Malcolm nodded and gave Xavier a wave as he and Clay left.

“You look positively delectable,” Clay murmured once they were outside on the sidewalk.

“Do I?” Malcolm asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. 

Malcolm smiled as he slid into the back of the car. Malcolm had expected things to be awkward when he’d been reunited with Clay - in fact part of him had expected Clay to have moved on and found someone new. So to have Clay there, so present for him, yet so patient, was wonderful. Malcolm had expected Clay to pester him with questions like Ainsley had, like he knew his mother wanted to do, but he hadn’t. Clay had simply let Malcolm be, let Malcolm process everything on his own time.

“Thank you,” Malcolm said once the car was moving.

“For what?”

“For not pushing,” Malcolm said. “I know you have questions -”

“Which I’ll ask when you’re ready to answer them,” Clay said. “Right now I’m just revelling in the fact that I have you back. It was so fuckin’ hard for me to leave you with Xavier to go to my meeting.”

“It was?” Malcolm asked.

“I didn’t want to let you out of my sight,” Clay said. “I was terrified when I came back you’d be gone.”

Malcolm sighed and rested his head on Clay’s shoulder.

“I’m here,” Malcolm murmured. “I have no intentions of leaving you again.”

“Good.”

“Hey Clay?” Malcolm asked after a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“Can I move in?” Malcolm asked. “I know we were only back together a few months before I d-disappeared, but -”

“Yes,” Clay said. “Yes. I wanted to ask you to move in the second I saw you at that coffee shop, but I figured that would have freaked you out.”

“Maybe a little,” Malcolm said. “But I want to live with you again.”

“Good,” Clay said.

“Good,” Malcolm replied.

Malcolm sighed happily and snuggled into Clay’s side as the car made its way back to Clay’s brownstone. When it came to a stop, Malcolm climbed out and waited patiently so the two of them could walk up the steps together.

And once inside, once Clay had dropped the keys on the table in the entry, door closed behind them, Malcolm took Clay’s hand and led Clay up the stairs.

The playroom could wait until later - the first reconnection needed to happen in the bedroom.

Once in Clay’s bedroom - soon to be their bedroom - Malcolm kicked off his shoes and then began to strip down. He kept his back to Clay, enjoying the feel of Clay’s eyes on him as he stripped. Stripped down his underwear, Malcolm turned to face Clay, smiling softly.

“Fucking beautiful,” Clay said. 

“I know I don’t look quite the same,” Malcolm started.

“Stop,” Clay said. “I said what I said. Fucking beautiful.”

Malcolm knew he was blushing as he tugged his underwear off and climbed onto the bed. He rolled onto his side and watched Clay.

“I want to see you,” Malcolm said. “Please.”

“As you wish,” Clay replied.

Malcolm leaned on his elbow and watched as Clay stripped down, tossing his clothes into the hamper as he went. 

“Talk about beautiful,” Malcolm said. “Pot, kettle.”

“Funny,” Clay said.

“I’m a funny man,” Malcolm said, dropping back down to the bed and opening his arms for Clay.

When Clay reached the bed, Malcolm grabbed his hand and tugged Clay onto the bed, chuckling softly. With Clay on top of him, Malcolm hummed happily and wrapped his arms around Clay.

“I want to see you,” Clay whispered.

Malcolm nodded and released his hold on Clay, smiling when Clay straddled his thighs. Hands at his sides, Malcolm almost held his breath as Clay reached out and, almost hesitantly, ran his hands across Malcolm’s shoulders. Across the shoulders, down the arms, then from his hips up his sides, then down his chest … Clay’s touch was reverent and Malcolm was almost in tears with how cherished he felt.

“Malcolm,” Clay murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Clay,” Malcolm breathed. “Just … just keep touching me. Please.”

“As long as you want,” Clay said softly. “I can’t see your ribs anymore.”

“You’ve been feeding me well,” Malcolm replied with a smile. “Lots of protein.”

“I could make such a dirty joke,” Clay said, giving Malcolm’s arm a playful smack.

“I know,” Malcolm replied, reaching up to rest his hands on Clay’s chest, smiling at Clay’s heartbeat under his hand. When he felt Clay’s hand on his own chest, Malcolm smiled wider.

“You’re here,” Clay said.

“I’m here,” Malcolm said. “I want you, Clay. I want to feel you again. Feel you inside me.”

Clay groaned. “We haven’t been -”

“The doctors ran a full battery of tests,” Malcolm said. “Including testing me for STIs. I’m clean. So as long as you haven’t since I -”

“I haven’t,” Clay said. “Me and my right hand got to be best friends but otherwise I’ve been celibate.”

“Then I repeat,” Malcolm said. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Who am I to deny you, my bright boy,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled as he watched Clay reach over to the nightstand and grab a bottle of lube.

“That any good?” Malcolm asked.

“Grabbed some last week,” Clay admitted with a grin.

“Hopeful,” Malcolm said.

“Celebratory,” Clay said as he slid down a bit.

“Big wo-ord,” Malcolm said, stuttering when he felt one lubed finger slide inside him.

“Well, I am a former Harvard professor,” Clay said. “I do know them big words.”

Malcolm started to chuckle, then groaned when he felt a second finger slip inside him. He gasped when the fingers from Clay’s free hand tweaked one of Malcolm’s nipples.

“Oh,” Malcolm said softly.

“Still so responsive,” Clay whispered. 

“Yes,” Malcolm hissed as Clay’s calloused fingers rolled his nipple.

“Tonight is all about you, tonight is gentle,” Clay said. “But sometime soon we’re going to go down to the playroom. I’m going to strap you to the cross and keep you on edge for hours … maybe see if you’ve got a hair pulling kink - your hair was never long enough for me to test that theory.”

Malcolm whimpered and his cock gave a twitch at Clay’s words.

“Oh, I think I might be right,” Clay said. “We’re definitely going to test that.”

“Can’t - can’t wait,” Malcolm gasped as he felt a third finger slide inside him. 

Malcolm was in awe over how gentle Clay was being with him, treating Malcolm like a treasure, yet still bringing him to the very edge of pleasure.

“Almost there, M,” Clay breathed. “We’re almost there … you’re so close.”

“I am,” Malcolm said. “I’m ready, Clay. Please, please I want you.”

“Patience,” Clay said. 

Malcom whined when he felt Clay’s hand leave his nipple and wrap around his cock.

“Shit,” Malcolm said. “Don’t … fuck, don’t or I’m going to come right now.”

“Okay,” Clay said soothingly, lifting his hand from Malcolm’s cock. “I don’t want you to come until I’m inside you.”

Malcolm bit his lip and nodded, watching as Clay removed his fingers and, with a bit of lube, began to push forward. It has been _so long_ , and the burn felt so good as Clay pushed inside him.

“Fuck,” Malcolm groaned. “Fuck.”

“That’s what we’re doing,” Clay replied.

Malcolm started to laugh, but it quickly turned into a moan when Clay gave a sharp thrust. 

“Clay,” Malcolm gasped. “T-touch me. Please.”

Hearing Clay give a soft sigh, Malcolm held his breath, then gasped when Clay’s calloused hand wrapped around his cock. He arched into Clay’s touch, hands grabbing at Clay’s waist as he tried to hold out for as long as possible. Then Clay began to stroke Malcolm’s cock in time with Clay’s own thrusts. Once, twice … on the third stroke and thrust Malcolm came, Clay’s name on his lips. He felt Clay come as well and smiled, running a hand up and down Clay’s back.

“Fuck, I missed that,” Clay murmured as he laid down gently on top of Malcolm.

Malcolm hummed happily and nodded, wiggling a bit when Clay slid out of him.

“Missed that, too,” Malcolm replied. “Just think, you’ll have access to me anytime you want.”

“Didn’t I already?”

“Technically, but now I’ll be living here,” Malcolm said. “So, even easier access.”

“Now, ain’t that nice?” Clay said.

Malcolm couldn’t help but giggle when he felt Clay’s nose behind his ear.

“You smell good,” Clay said.

“Cedar beard oil,” Malcolm said. “Fancy shampoo and deep conditioner.”

“Still smell good,” Clay said.

“Smell good, want sex,” Malcolm teased, yelping when Clay pinched him on the thigh.

“Imp,” Clay muttered.

“Yes, but I’m your imp,” Malcolm said.

“That you are.”

Malcolm hummed happily when Clay rolled onto his side and tugged Malcolm with him so they were spooning face to face. Malcolm fumbled a bit for the sheets and tugged them up before tucking his head under Clay’s chin, sighing when he felt Clay’s fingers stroking his hair. A few minutes later Malcolm’s eyes drifted closed and he felt himself drift off to sleep.

* * * 

“Okay, when did this obsession with weapons start?”

Malcolm unpacked another box of books and glanced at Clay.

“What?”

“This entire box is filled with individually wrapped weapons of all kinds,” Clay said. “I’m going to have to turn one of the guest rooms into an armory.”

Malcolm grinned and shrugged.

“Some people collect keychains, I collect weapons,” Malcolm said.

“Uh-huh,” Clay said. “Like I said, an armory. A locked one in case we’re ever robbed - don’t want anyone having easy access to this many weapons.”

“We can always store them at Mother’s house,” Malcolm offered.

“I honestly don’t think that’s a better or safer option,” Clay said with a grin. “Locked armory will be just fine.”

Malcolm laughed and went to the next box, unpacking some pictures and trinkets. The pictures were of him and Ainsley, him and his mother, him and his old college friends whom he still kept in touch with. Malcolm glanced over at Clay, who was still unboxing Malcolm’s weapon collection, and grabbed the pictures and puttered around the living room to find spots where he could place the frames.

Malcolm looked at the pictures already out and smiled - pictures of Clay with Xavier, Jameson, even a few pictures of Clay with Jessica and Ainsley.

Malcolm frowned a bit when he saw a picture of Clay with a woman that he didn’t recognize; long red hair, purple Grecian style dress - the woman was stunning.

“Who’s this?” Malcolm asked, trying to quash the spark of jealousy that threatened to rear its ugly head. He smiled a bit when he felt Clay stand behind him, felt Clay’s hands on his hips.

“Who - oh,” Clay said. “That’s Ezra.”

“Ezra,” Malcolm said, frowning. An odd name for a woman.

“Ezra Russell,” Clay said. “My brother.”

Malcolm blinked as he processed Clay’s words, then took a closer look at the photograph. Past the hair and the makeup and the dress … yep, there it was.

“Wait, you have a brother?” Malcolm asked, turning to look at Clay.

“I found out about him a few years ago, actually,” Clay said. 

“A few years ago,” Malcolm said. 

“Yeah,” Clay said. “Seems like when my parents kicked me out, they waited a year or so, then tried again. They had Ezra Isaac Russell about 26 years ago, thinking they could get it right? I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Malcolm said.

“Oh I know, but we both know my parents are idiots,” Clay said. “Anyway, if they thought I was bad being a bi/pan man into BDSM, I was a cakewalk next to Ezra, a homosexual drag queen. Ezra showed up on my doorstep a few years ago after getting kicked out and our folks slipping and mentioning me.”

“You didn’t mention him before,” Malcolm said, trying not to feel hurt.

“I had planned on it,” Clay said. “We’d only been back together a few months before you were taken. I was trying to find the right time to bring it up.”

Malcolm smiled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to Clay’s chin.

“Am I ever going to meet him?” Malcolm asked.

“Well, he lives in Las Vegas,” Clay said. “He does a burlesque show and apparently does really well for himself. I’m hoping he’ll come out for the holidays, but we’ll see.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said. “I ... at first I got a little jealous and then I was a little hurt.”

“Jealous because you thought I’d stepped out on you, then hurt because you felt like I was hiding you,” Clay said. “Darlin’, I’d never hide you. Ezra knows all about you, about us when you were in college and I’ve been texting him about you recently, too. He really wants to meet you and I want you to meet him. You’re a part of my life, M.”

Malcolm smiled and gave Clay another kiss.

“I was being silly,” Malcolm said.

“It’s okay,” Clay said softly. “Really. You weren’t being silly at all; I’d probably have had similar thoughts in the same situation.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re very enticing,” Clay said. 

“Am I?” Malcolm said, giving Clay a third kiss.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. “Very enticing.”

Malcolm smiled and gave Clay a hug.

“Want to help me find places for the rest of my pictures before we attack my wardrobe?” Malcolm asked.

“Sure,” Clay said. “We’ll leave the armory for later.”

“Very funny.”

* * * 

“You sure you want all of us there?”

Malcolm glanced up at Clay and smiled.

“I’m sure,” Malcolm said. “I mean, I really don’t want to have to go over it a bunch of times and since Gil wants to go over my statement and get clarification on things I couldn’t talk about because I, well, couldn’t talk.”

“But you want me, your mother and Ainsley there,” Clay said.

“Well definitely you,” Malcolm said. “And Mother and Ainsley so that they can hear it and not have to field a bunch of questions.”

“Okay,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled and slipped his hand into Clay’s as they headed into the police station. Malcolm held his head high as he headed towards Gil’s office - part of it was due to Malcolm’s current look, part of it was because he was with Clay and part of it was due to the case itself.

“Malcolm,” Gil said. “And Clay. Good to see you guys.”

“Good to see you, too,” Malcolm said.

“Hey, who’s the Jesus looking dude?”

Malcolm turned to see JT in the doorway and laughed.

“Bright?” JT asked. 

Malcolm nodded. 

“Woah,” JT said. “Didn’t think you’d keep the Jesus look. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm said. “Are my mother and Ainsley here yet?”

“Jessica arrived about ten minutes ago,” Gil said. “Ainsley’s not here yet, but I expect her shortly.”

“Well, I don’t really want to start without Ainsley,” Malcolm said. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Ainsley said from the hall, a bit breathless.

“Where’s Dani?” Malcolm asked.

“Keeping your mother company,” Gil said.

Malcolm winced.

“I owe her a coffee or a drink,” Malcolm said.

“Oh yeah,” Clay said. “We’d best go relieve her.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said.

“This way,” Gil said, leading the way through the station to the conference room where Jessica and Dani were.

“Malcolm, darling!” Jessica said.

“Malcolm,” Dani said. “Unexpected, but looks good.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm said.

“Okay, okay, let’s all take a seat so we can get through this,” Gil said. “Malcolm, is it okay if I record you? Just to make things a bit easier later on?”

Malcolm nodded as he sat down, smiling when Clay sat next to him and took one of Malcolm’s hands in his.

“I just have one request,” Malcolm said. “Ainsley can’t get a copy of it.”

“Malcolm,” Ainsley said. 

“No,” Malcolm said. “You always look for the story in everything, which most of the time is admirable. But in this instance? I’m not a story.”

“You’re not a story,” Ainsley said. 

“Are we all set then?” Gil said, setting a recorder on the conference table.

“All set,” Malcolm said. “Wait, one more thing. The only people allowed to ask questions in here are members of the police department. Clay, Mother, Ainsley … just let me talk. I’ll answer your questions later, if you still have them when this is done.”

“Got it, darlin’,” Clay said, pressing a kiss to Malcolm’s temple.

“Understood,” Jessica said.

“Okay,” Ainsley said.

Malcolm sighed and turned to Gil.

“Okay, we can start now,” Malcolm said.

“Okay,” Gil said as he turned on the recorder. “Let’s go over your statement a bit. Can you start from the beginning about what you remember from the day you were taken?”

Malcolm swallowed and nodded and started to recount the day he’d been taken. He went through his morning, going to the police department to help on a case and then going to run a few errands before meeting Clay. 

“And I remembered a sharp pain in my arm, but I was in such a rush that I thought I’d just hit something,” Malcolm said. “Until I started to feel woozy. It was then I realized that’d I’d been drugged.”

“Do you remember anything else from that day?” Gil asked.

“I remember that I tried to get my phone, but I just couldn’t seem to get my hands to work,” Malcolm said. “And then someone was next to me and they manhandled me into a van. After that I blacked out.”

“And can you tell me about what your time in captivity,” Gil said.

Malcolm paused, then glanced at Clay, his mother and Ainsley, then started to talk. About how he’d been shackled to the bed in the farmhouse from the moment he’d woken up from being drugged. 

The woman who’d taken him had called Malcolm her muse, her connection to the Surgeon. He’d been forced to talk about his father day after day, to dissect his murders with his captor. Talking and talking, day after day, never any reprieve except when he was allowed to sleep. He hadn’t even been able to shower and he’d had to rely on his captor to lug in the horse trough so he could take a bath. He’d had to rely on her for food and drink as well … everything had come from her.

“She seemed to be under the impression that the Surgeon could speak through me,” Malcolm said. “Ludicrous.”

Malcolm glanced over at Clay, smiling when Clay snorted.

“I kept trying to tell her that the Surgeon couldn’t speak through me, but she had none of it,” Malcolm continued with a shrug.

“Did she ever,” Gil started, “well, were you and her ever -”

“No,” Malcolm said. “She never forced herself on me.”

Malcolm gave Clay a loving smile and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Well, I think that answers everything and clears a lot of things up,” Gil said as he stopped the recorder. “And you understand about that last question - we just had to be sure.”

“I understand,” Malcolm said. “And now that the recorder is off, you are all free to ask any questions if you still have them?”

“What about your medications?” Jessica asked. “And your night terrors?”

“I was off my medications,” Malcolm said. “Forced to come face to face with every repressed memory, every dastardly thing Dr. Whitly did. The night terrors lasted for months - part of the reason my vocal cords were so damaged.”

Malcolm gave Clay’s hand another squeeze.

“Darlin’,” Clay murmured.

“Malcolm,” Jessica said softly. “And now?”

“Now?” Malcolm said. “Now I don’t know if I need the medications anymore. I don’t have the tremors anymore, haven’t had a night terror since before I was rescued … I don’t know.”

“That’s something we’ll circle back to, then,” Clay said.

“I agree,” Jessica said. “But if you really are okay ...”

“Well, all signs point to yes at the moment,” Malcolm said.

“I’m giving you fair warning, they might call you as a witness,” Gil said. “She’s still pleading insanity so they’ll more than likely have a competency hearing and, well, since you spent a year with her as her captive, I expect they’ll want to talk to you.”

“Understood,” Malcolm said.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” Clay said.

“Isn’t it cross?” JT asked.

“Not in this case,” Clay said. 

“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m in desperate need of a drink,” Jessica said. “And perhaps a quaalude. Anyone else?”

Malcolm ran a hand over his face at the looks Gil, JT and Dani all gave his mother.

“Mother, perhaps save the drug talk for when you’re not in front of three police officers in a police station,” Malcolm said.

Jessica just shrugged as she stood and gathered her belongings.

“No, Jessica, we won’t be partaking,” Gil said. “I’ll show you out.”

“Lovely,” Jessica replied.

Malcolm sighed as he watched Gil escort his mother from the station.

“Your mother is something else,” Dani said.

“That’s an understatement,” Malcolm said.

“I gotta get going, Malcolm,” Ainsley said softly.

Malcolm glanced over at her as she stood and grabbed her stuff. She looked paler than normal and a little drawn.

“Hey Ains,” Malcom said, waiting until she turned to look at him. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Okay,” Ainsley said. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Malcolm replied.

“I’ll walk you out,” Dani offered, walking Ainsley from the conference room.

“That was some rough shit,” JT said. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“Exactly what I think,” Clay said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Malcolm’s cheek.

Malcolm chuckled and turned to give Clay a proper kiss before standing. 

“I think we’re done here, right?” Malcolm said.

“As far as I know,” JT said. “I’m sure Gil’ll call if he has more questions.”

“I’m sure he will,” Malcolm said. “If I don’t see him on our way out, let him know I left?”

“Will do,” JT said.

Malcolm waited for Clay to stand then, with Clay’s arm around his shoulders, headed back through the station, ignoring all the stares he got. When they were back out on the street, Malcolm heaved a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad that’s over with,” Malcolm said.

“You know, with everything going on, I was so focused on getting you physically healthy, I completely missed the part where you needed to also get mentally healthy,” Clay said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Clay,” Malcolm said. “What I said in there was all true. I don’t have the tremors, I haven’t had a night terror … Not that I won’t say no to some time in the playroom, but honestly being forced to come face to face with everything without any pharmaceutical assistance helped. We both know I’m a master of avoidance and sometimes procrastination.”

“Indeed,” Clay said, amused.

“So, cold turkey worked. For me,” Malcolm said. “I’m not saying I’m completely mentally healthy, because what happened during that year wasn’t fun. But what I am saying is that I might be a bit better than before.”

“When did you get so smart?” Clay asked.

“In college,” Malcolm replied with a grin, laughing when Clay wrapped him in a hug.

“Smart ass,” Clay said. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I want to go home,” Malcolm said. “Make dinner with you and sit in front of the television in disgusting domesticity.”

“Disgusting domesticity, huh?”

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “Sound good?”

“Sounds fantastic,” Clay said. “Let’s go”

A few subway rides later, Malcolm and Clay were safely home and in the kitchen. Clay had turned the radio on and was blasting classic rock as they worked around each other. Clay had suggested chicken, brown rice and some steamed vegetables and Malcolm had agreed. So Malcolm worked to steam the veggies and make the rice while Clay handled the chicken.

When dinner was done, Malcolm and Clay carried their plates to the living room, turned on the history channel and sat down to eat. And when dinner was done, they worked in tandem to clean the plates and get the kitchen back in order before heading upstairs.

It was nice.

Disgustingly domestic.

Perfect.

* * * 

They fell into a comfortable pattern over the next couple of weeks. Yoga, morning run, more yoga and then breakfast. Clay would go off to his office to work on his next book or go off to meetings and Malcolm was left to his own devices. Sometimes he went to meetings with Clay, sometimes he met Ainsley and Jameson for lunch, sometimes he met with his mother. He even started helping the police department out again - limited for now, but it was still nice to help out again.

There was just one thing missing.

Clay had yet to take Malcolm down to the playroom. Oh, they still had sex - plenty of it. But they had yet to venture downstairs.

Malcolm knew it was because Clay wanted to make sure Malcolm was fully recovered, and that was admirable, but … 

Malcolm was better. He just wasn’t quite sure how to tell Clay that.

“What should I do?” Malcolm asked Jameson. He’d stopped by the hospital and had gotten lucky and found Jameson on a short break.

“He’s out at a meeting, right?” Jameson said.

“Yeah, talking about his next book,” Malcolm said. Clay’s first book had been released and was already a success, steadily climbing the New York Times bestseller list.

“Okay, so just be waiting for him in the living room and tell him what you want,” Jameson said. “Better yet, be kneeling naked in the living room and tell him what you want.”

“Jameson!” Malcolm said.

“What?”

“Incorrigible,” Malcolm said.

“Part of my charm,” Jameson replied. “Seriously, kneeling naked in the living room.”

“Maybe,” Malcolm said.

“You look a lot better,” Jameson said. “Happier.”

“I am,” Malcolm said.

“You deserve it,” Jameson said.

Malcolm smiled when Jameson pulled him in for a quick hug.

“I better get going if I want to get home before Clay,” Malcolm said.

“Good luck,” Jameson said.

“Thanks,” Malcolm said.

Malcolm watched Jameson head back inside the hospital before heading home. He felt a bit nervous once he got inside and went into the living room, but knew it was the right decision. Making sure the curtains were closed (no need to give everyone a show), Malcolm stripped down and knelt on a pillow on the floor near the couch. He let himself kind of space out a bit as he waited, although he knew Clay was almost home having gotten a text just before he’d gotten home.

The sound of a key in the door and Malcolm was suddenly on high alert. He straightened his back, clasped his hands behind his back, bowed his head and waited.

“Malcolm? M?”

Malcolm could hear Clay in the foyer dropping his keys and kicking off his shoes. Malcolm kept silent and knew the instant Clay reached the living room.

“Malcolm?”

Malcolm felt the energy in the room change, could hear it in Clay’s voice. He remained quiet, waiting until -

“You may speak,” Clay said softly.

“I know what you’re doing,” Malcolm said. “And it’s endearing, really. But I’m ready. I want to go downstairs. Please.”

Malcolm held his breath as he heard Clay cross the room and stand next to him. Malcolm gasped when Clay suddenly grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.

“You sure?” Clay asked.

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said. “Please.” He whimpered when Clay gave his hair a sharp tug.

“Downstairs, it is,” Clay said.

Malcolm waited until Clay had released the hold on his hair before carefully standing and following Clay through the house to the stairs to the playroom. Letting Clay lead, Malcolm felt the butterflies in his stomach as they descended the steps.

Malcolm sighed as they stepped inside, waiting just inside the door for Clay’s instruction.

“I think I want you on the bed,” Clay said. “On your back.”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said, padding over to the bed and laying down on his back.

“So eager to please,” Clay said as he approached the bed. “My bright boy.”

“Yours,” Malcolm agreed.

“You have no idea how many times I wanted to bring you down here,” Clay said as he walked around the bed securing Malcolm in the restraints. “Re-stake my claim properly on your body.”

“Please,” Malcolm whispered. “Mark me. Make me yours.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Clay said. “Think I’ll start with these.”

Before Malcolm could respond, he gasped as Clay began rolling his nipples, the calloused fingertips tweaking hard and making Malcolm’s toes curl. Malcolm whined softly when Clay stopped but then yelped he found first one, then both nipples clamped. When he glanced down his found a silver clamp on each nipple with a chain hooked between the two.

“Wanted to do this for a while,” Clay said, giving the chain an experimental tug.

“Fuck!” Malcolm yelled at the tingles that shot down his spine.

“Knew you’d like that,” Clay said. “And now that my hands are free …”

Malcolm whimpered as Clay’s hands began to roam over his body, nails raking and making bright red marks on Malcolm’s skin. Wherever Clay’s hands weren’t Clay’s beard was. The scratchy softness of Clay’s beard and the sharp tang of Clay’s nails together had Malcolm on the verge of sensory overload.

Clay seemed to know how on edge Malcolm was because he stopped raking Malcolm’s skin with his nails. Instead he used his tongue to trace patterns on Malcolm’s skin, followed that with a few bites (hard enough to bruise) and then would rub his beard against the spot. Tongue, teeth, beard. Tongue, teeth, beard. All over Malcolm’s skin.

The rhythm was soothing and Malcolm felt himself drifting, weightless, happy. He’d jolt a bit when Clay gave the chain between his nipples a tug but it only sent him deeper faster.

“P-please,” Malcolm whispered. “Sir, please.”

“Who are you?” Clay asked.

“Your bright boy,” Malcolm replied immediately. “Yours. Yours, yours, yours.”

“Damn right you are,” Clay said.

Malcolm almost didn’t register Clay slamming into him, the burn mixing so effortlessly with all the other sensations. But then Clay gave the chain a hard tug and Malcolm yelled. 

“Look at me.”

Malcolm felt Clay’s hand in his hair and whined when Clay gave his hair a sharp tug.

“Look at me, M,” Clay said again.

Malcolm locked eyes with Clay and sighed.

“Yours,” Malcolm breathed.

“Tell me if I can move, M,” Clay said.

“Move,” Malcolm said, grabbing the restraints. “Move.”

The first thrust made Malcolm gasp - it was accompanied by a sharp hair tug. Thrust, tug, thrust, tug … Distantly Malcolm knew if Clay barely touched his cock, Malcolm would come. After a few thrusts, Malcolm felt Clay’s hand on his cock and with barely one stroke, came so hard he literally saw stars. Then everything went kind of white … 

Malcolm came to just as Clay released the nipple clamps, yelping as the blood returned to first one, then the other nipple.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Clay said as he set the clamps aside to clean later and released the restraints from Malcolm’s wrists and ankles.

“No you’re not,” Malcolm muttered, giving a soft ‘eep’ when Clay smacked his thigh.

“Imp,” Clay said.

“Yep,” Malcolm said, groaning at the ache in his muscles.

“May have gotten a little carried away,” Clay murmured.

“Feel free to get carried away again,” Malcolm said, moaning softly when Clay started massaging his wrists and ankles.

“Pretty sure you’re going to be covered in bruises, M,” Clay said.

Malcolm got up on his elbows and gave Clay a look.

“These bruises I want,” Malcolm said softly. “I begged for these ones, Clay. I’m not made of glass.”

“I’m aware,” Clay replied. “I’m just -”

“Concerned,” Malcolm said. “And I appreciate it but next time can you just ask me?” He laughed when Clay pushed him back down onto the bed and laid on top of him.

“I think I got it,” Clay murmured.

Malcolm wiggled a bit when Clay rubbed his cheek against one of his abused nipples. He tugged Clay up and gave him a sweet kiss before wrapping his arms around Clay, letting Clay roll them so they were spooning face to face.

“Maybe sometime we can go to A Murder of Crows?” Malcolm asked softly.

“I think we can manage that,” Clay replied.

Malcolm hummed happily and kept hold of Clay even as he felt himself drift off to sleep.

* * * 

“I think I need to go see my father.”

Malcolm was thankful he’d waited to make sure no one was eating or drinking to make that statement. He and Clay were attending Sunday night dinner at his mother’s and the fallout from that announcement would have much worse.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jessica asked. “Why on earth would you want to go see that man?”

“I need to confront him about my childhood,” Malcolm said.

“Clay, do you agree with this?” Jessica asked.

Malcolm smiled as Clay reached over and took his hand. They’d had a very long talk about Malcolm’s year in captivity and the revelations that he’d had during that time.

“While I would normally think it’s a terrible idea,” Clay started, “in this instance I actually agree with Malcolm.”

“Nothing good will come of it,” Jessica said.

“Actually, I disagree,” Malcolm said. 

“He’s going to try to get under your skin again,” Jessica said. “I just don’t feel comfortable -”

“Mother,” Malcolm interrupted. “I wasn’t actually asking for permission. I know you might not agree with my decision, but it’s something I need to do. I need closure and this visit will give me that.”

“Are you going alone?” Jessica asked.

“Fuck no, I’m going with him,” Clay said. “I might think it’s a good idea, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting Malcolm go there alone.”

Malcolm glanced over to Ainsley, who’d been silent.

“Ains?” Malcolm asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Ainsley said. “But I agree that it’s your choice.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm said. 

“When are you planning to go?” Jessica asked.

“Soon,” Malcolm said. “I think the sooner the better.”

“So, who wants dessert?” 

Malcolm glanced over at Jameson and laughed.

“I think dessert would be fantastic,” Malcolm said.

The rest of the dinner and dessert passed in relative peace, although Malcolm knew his mother wanted to comment further on his decision to see his father.

When dinner was finally done and Malcolm were safely ensconced in bed at home, Malcolm leaned up and pressed a kiss to Clay’s cheek.

“What’s that for?” Clay asked.

“For supporting me,” Malcolm murmured. “I know you don’t want me to go.”

“But I do understand that it’s necessary,” Clay said. “You have things you need to clear up some things.”

“And after this, I’m done,” Malcolm said. “No more visits.”

“No more visits,” Clay said. “I love you, M.”

“Love you too, Clay,” Malcolm whispered.

* * * 

Malcolm stared up at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital and took a few deep breaths to brace himself. He smiled when he felt Clay’s hand grab his and give it a gentle squeeze.

“I can do this,” Malcolm whispered.

“You can do this,” Clay said. “And I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Malcolm smiled, pressed a kiss to Clay’s cheek and led the way inside.

It had been a while since Malcolm had been there (more than a year) and the nurse’s station was quite surprised to see him. He got quite a few compliments on his hair, beard and choice of boyfriend, before the guard arrived to escort him and Clay to Martin’s room.

Malcolm stood just inside the door, trying to remain even calm and taking comfort in Clay’s strong presence next to him. His father sat at his desk jotting down notes and Malcolm rolled his eyes - of course his father would keep him waiting.

“I was so surprised when they said I had a visitor,” Martin said, still looking at the notebooks on his desk.

“I have something to tell you,” Malcolm said.

“And I hoped it would be you,” Martin said. “Your sister has never been to see me.”

“And she never will,” Malcolm said. “And after today, I won’t be back.”

That got Martin’s attention.

“We both know - what in the world happened to you?” Martin asked as he turned around and caught sight of Malcolm. “And why is he here?”

Malcolm glanced over at Clay, curious as to why it seems like his father recognized his boyfriend.

“I’m just here to tell you a few things,” Malcolm said.

“First explain why you look like the understudy in Jesus Christ Superstar,” Martin said. “This is not a very professional look at all.”

“I actually don’t care what you think about how I look,” Malcom said. “I like it, Clay likes it, even Mother and Ainsley like it.” Actually, more like Jessica and Ainsley got used to it, but that really didn’t matter.

“Completely unprofessional for working with the police department,” Martin said.

“They don’t care, either,” Malcolm said. “But my hair and beard are not the reason I came here today.”

“No? New case you need assistance with?” Martin said. “I’m all ears.”

“Not a new case,” Malcolm said. “I wanted to let you know that I remember.”

“You remember,” Martin said. “Such a vague term with so many possibilities. What do you remember?”

“The camping trip,” Malcolm said. “Your protege. The girl in the box. I remember it all, in vivid detail. You see, I was held captive by a woman who seemed to think you could speak through me. Held captive for a year, without certain pharmaceuticals, I was forced to come to grips with things.”

“I see,” Martin said slowly, standing and approaching Malcolm and Clay.

“You don’t have power over me anymore,” Malcolm said. “You might have before. You may have even tried to turn me into a killer but no more.”

“You’re always going to be my son,” Martin said. “Nothing changes that.”

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “You are my father. That will never change. But you will no longer be part of my life.”

“Malcolm, son,” Martin pleaded.

“No,” Malcolm said. “Stop. We’re done. I won’t be coming back.”

“You always come back,” Martin said.

“Not this time,” Malcolm said. “I’m done. There’s nothing else that you can tell me to give me insight into myself. A year without medications did that more effectively. So have a good life, Dr. Whitly.”

Malcolm turned to face Clay, standing on his toes and kissing Clay sweetly.

“Let’s go home,” Malcolm whispered.

“Anything you want,” Clay said.

Malcolm glanced over at his father, who stood there at the very end of his tether, watching him expectantly.

“Goodbye, Dr. Whitly.”

Malcolm turned back to Clay and smiled.

“Let’s go,” Malcolm said.

“My bright boy,” Clay whispered, pressing a kiss to Malcolm’s hair as he led Malcolm from Martin’s cell.

Clay turned and looked at Martin.

“He’s not yours anymore,” Clay said. “He’s mine.”

“Possessive,” Malcolm muttered once they left Martin’s cell.

“I am,” Clay said. “You’re mine.”

Once they’d left Claremont and were back in the car, Malcolm turned to look at Clay.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Malcolm asked.

“What?” 

“You’re cute when you’re trying to play dumb, Clay,” Malcolm said. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Back when you were in college,” Clay said. “After the last time you saw Martin. After the punishment. I came here to see Martin.”

“You did what?” Malcolm asked. “Why?”

“Because, as you pointed out, I’m possessive,” Clay said. “I wanted him to know that you were mine.”

Malcolm sighed and leaned against Clay as they rode back to home.

“Possessive,” Malcolm said softly. “Clay?”

“Hmmm?” 

“Can we take a bath when we get home?” Malcolm asked. “I want to get the scent off me.”

“Sure thing, M,” Clay murmured. “Sure thing.”

Malcolm sighed and snuggled in close as they headed home. They’d been there less than half an hour, yet Malcolm felt so drained. He actually dozed a bit and came to as Clay lifted him out of the car and carried him inside.

“I can walk,” Malcolm mumbled.

“I’m aware,” Clay said. “But I want to carry you.”

Malcolm sighed and tucked his head on Clay’s shoulder as Clay manhandled him a bit to open the door, then carried Malcolm up the stairs to their room. He was momentarily surprised to feel the duvet under him, but then he heard movement in the bathroom and realized Clay had gone to run the bath.

“You’re the best,” Malcolm mumbled. “Best boyfriend ever.”

“I’m far from a boy, M,” Clay said as he re-entered the bedroom.

“Well you’re not a sugar daddy,” Malcolm said, squeaking when Clay lifted him into his arms.

“Fuck no,” Clay replied. 

Malcolm chuckled, burying his nose into Clay’s neck as Clay carried him to the bathroom. He sighed and Clay gently stripped him down and then helped him into the tub. A few minutes later Clay climbed into the tub behind Malcolm and Malcolm hummed.

“You’re just the best,” Malcolm murmured, turning a bit and resting his head on Clay’s chest. “Best sugar daddy.”

“Imp,” Clay muttered. “I’m not a sugar daddy.”

“To anyone else looking in you are,” Malcolm said. 

“Let’s define our relationship later, okay?” Clay said. “For now, let’s focus on washing the scent of Claremont from your skin.”

“That sounds nice,” Malcolm said. 

“Thought you’d like that,” Clay said. “Now dunk under.” 

Malcolm obliged and sank under the water, getting his hair wet. When he came up, he turned around, giving his back to Clay so Clay could wash his hair.

“Jesus Christ Superstar understudy my ass,” Clay muttered as he grabbed the shampoo. “You’d be the star.”

Malcolm chuckled, then hummed appreciatively when Clay started working the shampoo through Malcolm’s locks.

“Ignore my father,” Malcolm whispered, tilting his head back as Clay massaged his scalp.

“Plan to,” Clay replied. 

Malcolm hummed as Clay continued to massage his scalp for a few more minutes.

“Magic fingers,” Malcolm said.

“Is that so?” Clay replied with a chuckle.

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “They suck the stress right out of me. Make me all boneless.”

“Not all boneless,” Clay said, wrapping one hand around Malcolm’s cock.

“Oh my god,” Malcolm said, rolling his eyes as he sank under the water to rinse his hair. “You and your jokes.”

“You love them,” Clay said.

“Maybe,” Malcolm said when he came back up.

“No maybes,” Clay said reaching for the conditioner and working it through Malcolm’s hair.

“Says you,” Malcolm said - they both knew Malcolm really did like Clay’s dirty jokes.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed.

Malcolm just rolled his eyes, rinsing his hair before letting Clay wash and condition his beard. He shifted to the other side of the tub, resting his head on the lip of the tub as he watched Clay wash and condition his own hair and beard.

“Wanna properly wash in the shower?” Malcolm asked.

“So long as we end up in bed afterwards, I don’t really care where we wash,” Clay said.

“Bed for cuddles,” Maclolm said.

“Bed for cuddles,” Clay agreed.

Malcolm smiled and watched as Clay drained the tub. He clambered to his feet and followed Clay into the shower where he and Clay reverently washed each other. Shower turned off, Clay and Malcolm exited the shower, drying each other off before heading to bed. They paused for a moment so Clay could comb Malcolm’s hair and put it back in a braid.

“Sleep,” Clay said as he climbed under the covers with Malcolm.

“Sleep,” Malcolm agreed.

“Do you feel better now?”

Malcolm hummed and nodded.

“All kinds of better,” Malcolm whispered.

“Good.”

* * *

“You forgot your phone,” Malcolm said when Clay came in with the groceries.

“Well if you’re worried I forgot something, don’t worry,” Clay said. “I remembered everything.”

“No, I’m sure you remembered everything,” Malcolm said. “It was your manager, reminding you about the National Book Awards ceremony next week. Apparently your book was nominated?”

Clay shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on going,” he said.

“But what if you win?” Malcolm asked. 

“Then I win,” Clay said.

“You should go,” Malcolm said. “Your first book and it’s nominated for an award? That’s great, Clay.”

“And if I were to go,” Clay said. “Would you come with me?”

“I’d have to check my schedule,” Malcolm teased. “Were you going to tell me?”

“Maybe,” Clay admitted.

“Clay,” Malcolm said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been in the news lately, right?”

Malcolm nodded - Clay’s book had been on the top of the New York Bestseller’s list since its release and he’d done television interviews and magazine interviews talking about his book. It was unexpected for a book taking a deep psychological look at the most prolific serial killers from the early 19th century to be so popular, but Clay had written about them in such a way that had people begging for more.

“Yes, I’ve been collecting the articles,” Malcolm said.

“Of course you have,” Clay said. “Anyway, this was routed to me through the publishing company.”

Malcolm took the sheaf of papers Clay offered him and started to read, his frown deepening the more he read.

“Oh my god,” Malcolm said. “Is this from your parents?”

“Yep,” Clay said. 

“Holy shit,” Malcolm said. “This is horrible.”

“Yep,” Clay said again. “Talks about how they always loved me and how they forgive me for my perversions and, oh yeah can I send them fifty thousand dollars.”

“Why didn’t you just throw it out?” Malcolm asked. “Nevermind, I know the answer. Hope.”

Clay shrugged and took the letter back from Malcolm, glancing down at it before throwing it in the trash can.

“A little,” Clay admitted.

“Clay,” Malcolm said and wrapped Clay in a hug. “Just proves you’re human.”

“Does it now?” 

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed, rubbing Clay’s back. “Your parents don’t define you and you can choose to not talk to them.”

“Is that so?” Clay asked, humor coloring his tone. “I can choose not to talk to them.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be supportive here,” Malcolm said. “Tell the publishers to just throw out any letters they send. They didn’t care about you then so they don’t get to be in your life now.”

“Thank you,” Clay murmured.

“So,” Malcolm said. “Awards ceremony? Are we going?”

“Sure,” Clay said. “Does your tuxedo still fit?”

“Does yours?” Malcolm replied.

“We can both get our tuxedos altered if necessary,” Clay said. “I’m sure my manager can find someone to fit us in on short notice.”

“If not, my mother probably knows someone,” Malcolm said.

“We’ll talk to my manager first,” Clay said. “After we try them on.”

Malcolm smiled and gave Clay a sweet kiss.

“You should have told me,” Maclolm whispered.

“I know, darlin’,” Clay replied. “I was a little embarrassed. About the award and my parents, the whole thing.”

“Couples are supposed to talk to each other,” Malcolm said. “Or so I’ve read.”

“Read, huh? Where?”

“Cosmo,” Malcolm replied with a grin, giving Clay another kiss.

“Funny,” Clay replied.

“But seriously,” Malcolm said. “I spent nights talking to you about what happened to me when I was taken, what I remembered while I was there … you can talk to me about this.”

“I know,” Clay said. “I will. From here on out, no more secrets.”

“Good,” Malcolm said. “So, where is this shindig?”

“At the Angel Orensanz Foundation for the Arts,” Clay said. 

“Swanky and unique,” Malcolm said. “I can’t say I’ve ever been inside.”

“Well you won’t be able to say that after next week,” Clay replied with a smile.

“You doing okay now?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah, doing okay,” Clay said.

“Did you buy stuff so we can make dinner tonight?” Malcolm said.

“I figured we could use the leftover chicken from last night and have chicken salad,” Clay said. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the night passed in relative domesticity, fixing and eating dinner, washing the dishes together and cuddling on the couch together until they both decided it was time for bed.

As they got ready for bed and climbed under the covers, Malcolm contemplated the days’ events. Even after so much time together, they were still learning new things about each other. Notwithstanding Malcolm knew all about Clay’s childhood and his horrible parents, Clay had still hid things from Malcolm due to lingering insecurities - Malcolm made a mental not to check in with Clay more often. That letter was probably the first of many and Malcolm wanted to be prepared - maybe he’d reach out to Ezra and tell Clay’s brother to keep an eye out as well.

Just like Clay kept Malcolm safe, Malcolm would keep Clay safe.

* * * 

The morning of the National Book Awards was just like any other morning - yoga, morning run, then more yoga. Clay had a bunch of last minute meetings and Malcolm needed to pick up his tuxedo from the tailor - Clay’s had fit fine, Malcolm’s needed a little adjustment. Malcolm also had to stop by the police station to drop off some notes on case he was helping on.

Because of their conflicting schedules the rest of the day, they agreed to meet at the awards ceremony that evening.

They both left in the mid-morning, headed off to run their various errands. 

Malcolm may made one other appointment that Clay didn’t know about, something to surprise Clay with.

Malcolm dropped off his notes with Gil and chatted with him for a bit about life in general before heading off to tailor to pick up his tuxedo. Garment bag over his arm, Malcolm stopped to pick up a quick bite to eat as a late lunch before heading off to his surprise appointment.

He stepped into the barber shop and gave the woman at the desk a smile.

“Appointment with Xavier?” Malcolm said.

“Malcolm!” Xavier called.

Malcolm turned and gave Xavier a grin.

“Xavier, good to see you,” Malcolm said.

“I was surprised to see you on my book today,” Xavier said. “You normally come here with Clay.”

“Well, Clay doesn’t know I’m here today,” Malcolm said.

“No? Do tell,” Xavier said.

“We’re going to the National Book Awards tonight,” Malcolm said. “And I decided to make a change.”

“You did? Well don’t keep me hanging,” Xavier said as he motioned for Malcolm to follow him back.

Malcolm sat down in the chair and looked at his reflection in the mirror; hair hanging over his shoulders, beard in slight need of a trim.

“Okay so tell me what we’re doing,” Xavier said, moving to stand behind Malcolm.

“First things first is we’re losing the beard,” Malcolm said.

“Going baby faced? That’ll be a change,” Xavier said.

“And we’re cutting the long hair,” Malcolm said. “Something like when I saw you the first time all those years ago.”

“But not the same,” Xavier said. “You were in college then - no, we don’t do college short hair. We’ll do something different, dynamic. Something that’ll leave Clay speechless.”

“That’s the idea,” Malcolm said. 

“Exciting!” Xavier said as he wrapped a cape around Malcolm’s neck. “I wish I could be there to see his face.”

“I’ll tell you all about it the next time I come for a trim,” Malcolm said.

“I’ll be waiting,” Xavier said. “So, ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Maclolm said.

“Okay,” Xavier said. “We’re going to buzz the beard down first, get a rough cut in for the hair, then do a hot lather shave and go back to get the final cut in. Sound good?”

“Terrifying, but good,” Malcolm said. A part of him had been holding on to the beard and hair as maybe a bit of a weird security blanket - it was time to let it go.

“All right,” Xavier said as he approached Malcolm with the clippers. “Here we go.”

Malcolm closed his eyes and held his breath as he felt the clippers shear away his beard. It felt strange to suddenly feel the air on his cheeks and chin as the beard was sheared away. When the clippers were finally turned off, Malcolm opened his eyes and blinked at his reflection.

“Woah,” Malcolm said softly.

“Such a change right?” Xavier said. “It’ll look even better after the hot lather shave and once we’ve got your hair on point.”

Malcolm smiled at Xavier’s enthusiasm, getting a hand out from under the cape to rub his cheek.

“Looks better already,” Malcolm said.

“Oh just wait,” Xavier said. “Just wait.”

Malcolm chuckled and watched as Xavier moved back behind him and pulled Malcolm’s hair back in a ponytail at the base of Malcolm’s neck. Giving Malcolm a wink in the mirror, Xavier brandished the scissors and with a few snips, cut the ponytail off and laid it on the tray next to him.

“Holy shit,” Malcolm whispered as ear length hair floated around his face.

“We’re going to clean this up, don’t worry,” Xavier said. “Something dynamic and sexy.”

“I trust you,” Malcolm said. 

“Of course you do, darling,” Xavier said. “I’m going to rough in a cut right now, get rid of some more of the bulk before we do the hot lather shave.”

“Do your worst,” Malcolm said.

“No, no, this is going to be my best,” Xavier said, reaching for the clippers again.

“You are leaving me with hair, right?” Malcolm teased.

“Hush, you’re going to look great,” Xavier said.

Malcolm just laughed and watched carefully in the mirror as Xavier worked first with the clippers a bit, shortening the back and sides and then with the scissors on the top. Malcolm could see the shape taking place and could feel nerves battling with excitement.

“Okay,” Xavier said. “We’re going to do the hot lather shave.”

“How are we going to be on time?” Malcolm asked.

“What time were you going to meet Clay?”

“Dinner is supposed to start at six and the awards are at eight,” Malcolm said.

“You might be a little late,” Xavier said. “Since I assume you need to change before going.”

“Well I did bring my tux with me,” Malcolm said. 

“You have to let me take a picture before you go,” Xavier said.

“Okay,” Malcolm said.

“But shave first,” Xavier said.

Malcolm chuckled and nodded, letting Xavier work. The hot towel was relaxing, but Malcolm did get a bit nervous when Xavier came at him with the straight razor.

When he finally sat upright and saw himself in the mirror again, Malcolm blinked a few times at the baby faced man he saw reflected there.

“Haven’t seen this in a while,” Malcolm said.

“I’d almost forgotten what you looked like baby faced,” Xavier said. “Some on, let’s get you washed so I can finish this cut and get you off to your awards show.”

“Not mine,” Malcolm said, but followed Xavier over to the sinks. 

“Okay yours and Clay’s,” Xavier said.

One luxurious hair wash later and Malcolm was back in front of the mirror, wet hair hanging around his face a bit.

“This is a look,” Malcolm commented. “Not so sure about it right now.”

“Hush,” Xavier said. “Close your eyes and let me work.”

Malcolm sighed and closed his eyes, but smiled. In the time he’d been seeing Xavier since he’d been rescued, he and Xavier had become good friends. He had a lot of trust in Xavier, taking his suggestions when offered. Malcolm took deep breaths as Xavier worked again with the clippers, then the scissors and then with the blow dryer.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say,” Xavier said as he removed the cape. “I want you to see the full effect.”

“Fine, fine,” Malcolm said, feeling Xavier dusting off his neck and cleaning up his edges a bit.

“Okay, open,” Xavier said.

Malcolm opened his eyes and blinked a bit as his reflection. The sides were taken super short, but not so short that he could see his scalp through, and the top was longish and swept up and back in a kind of hybrid pompadour that was unlike any hairstyle he’d ever worn before.

“Holy shit,” Malcolm whispered.

“Exactly the reaction I was looking for,” Xavier said. “You don’t have to wear it as high as I have it tonight, but I figured you’d want to make a statement.”

“You definitely accomplished that,” Malcolm said.

“Go change and come back out, I want to see the whole look,” Xavier said, shooing Malcolm over to one of the bathrooms.

Malcolm laughed and stood, grabbing his garment bag and heading to one of the bathrooms so he could change. He’d leave his street clothes there at the barber shop and stop by in the next week to pick them up - he’d already cleared it with Xavier. Malcolm quickly got changed, taking the time to carefully and properly tie his bow tie. He took a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror before exiting and going to find Xavier.

“Damn, Malcolm,” Xavier. “Clay’s gonna shit a brick when he sees you.”

“Hope not, we’re going to be in a very public place and shitting a brick might cause a ruckus,” Malcolm said.

“Well he’ll definitely be speechless,” Xavier said. “Now let me get a picture before you go.”

Malcolm chuckled and let Xavier pose him and snap a few pictures before letting him go on his way.

Malcolm had arranged for a car service to take him to the awards ceremony, not wanting to get his tuxedo dirty in a cab or on the subway. On his way there, Malcolm glanced down at his phone and cursed quietly - he was running late.

When the car came to a stop outside the venue, Malcolm raced up the stairs, sparing a moment to check his reflection in a window before heading inside.

The Angel Orensanz Foundation for the Arts was absolutely beautiful inside; originally a synagogue, it ran through a succession of congregations before eventually being turned into an event space Just inside the doors of the space, Malcolm searched the tables and smiled when he found Clay chatting amiably with a few other people. Only about thirty minutes later, dinner hadn’t even been served yet, so Malcolm grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waitress and headed towards the table.

“... and my publisher is very happy,” Clay said as set his glass down and glanced up.

Malcolm resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair or run away. He was suddenly the focus of not only Clay’s attention, but the attention of the rest of the table.

“Apologies, my last appointment ran late,” Malcolm said.

“Everyone this is my partner, Malcolm Bright,” Clay said as he stood and moved around the table to Malcolm’s side.

“Hello,” Malcolm said, taking a large swallow of champagne.

“You little shit,” Clay whispered in Malcolm’s ear. “You have no idea how much I want to bend you over this table right now.”

“That was a bit of the plan,” Malcolm whispered back. “Thought it was time for a change.”

“You look fucking beauiful,” Clay murmured. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, they were just about to start bringing dinner out,” Clay said, holding a chair out for Malcolm.

“Then I have perfect timing,” Malcolm replied with a grin.

The rest of the table chuckled and everyone went back to their conversations.

Malcolm sat down and hummed when he felt Clay’s arm across the back of his chair, then Clay’s fingers at the nape of his neck.

“You have made it very hard for me to concentrate, darlin’,” Clay murmured.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but we both know that’d be a lie,” Malcolm replied with a grin, leaning back a bit into Clay’s touch.

Dinner arriving stopped Clay’s assault on Malcolm’s neck and they both got sucked into small talk with the rest of their table mates. Malcolm talked in general terms about his work and assisting the police department while Clay did the networking thing. Malcolm did catch a few people glancing between him and Clay, as if trying to figure out the age difference between the two of them. Everyone was too polite to ask outright so Malcolm just left them to their own assumptions.

When dinner was finally over and all the plates cleared away, everyone turned their attention to the stage for the ceremony portion of the night. There were awards for poetry, short stories, biographies, fiction and nonfiction. Nonfiction was the final category of the night (of course), and Malcolm was a little on edge - once the ceremony had started, Clay’s fingers made their way back up to the nape of Malcolm’s neck, caressing gently. 

“And the award for nonfiction goes to Clay Russell for his book ‘Nothing New: Serial Killers of the 1800s’!”

Malcolm gasped and turned, pulling Clay in for a quick kiss.

“Go on!” Malcolm said, practically shoving Clay out of his seat. He sat back and watched as Clay made his way through the tables up to stage, grinning when he realized Clay was blushing.

“Ah, hell,” Clay said as he reached the stage. “I actually didn’t expect this.”

Malcolm chuckled and shook his head - Clay should have expected it, his book was amazing.

“I guess … thanks to the Academy?” Clay joked. “Really, thanks. I couldn’t have done this without my publisher and editor, along with my manager for kicking my ass to keep me on track. And I also wanted to thank someone special in my life, my partner Malcolm.”

Everyone around the table turned to look at him, and Malcolm fought the urge to sink down under the table.

“He’s been through hell and back and yet has stuck by my side and supported me through this whole thing,” Clay said. “I honestly don’t think I could’ve gotten this published without him. Thank you, M.”

The women at the table cooed softly and Malcolm wished he could escape the table - but then Clay was headed back his way, so Malcolm settled for standing and waiting for him.

“You little shit,” Malcolm said when Clay reached him. “Making me all emotional.” He waited for Clay to set the award down on the table before pulling Clay in for a kiss.

“Just speaking the truth, M,” Clay murmured, breaking the kiss only to press a sweet kiss to Malcolm’s forehead. 

“Saved the best for last,” Malcolm said. “Think we could get out of here?” 

“Maybe,” Clay said. “Looks like everyone else is getting ready to go.”

Malcolm spared a glanced around; Clay was right, everyone else was starting to pack up.

“Perfect,” Malcolm said. “I’m ready to go home. It’s been a long day and I think I’m just going to head right to bed and sleep.” He gave Clay a wink as he spared a quick moment to finish his glass of water on the table.

“Sleep, huh?” Clay said. “I think I have other plans in mind.”

“Do you?” Malcolm said, blinking innocently up at Clay. “The history channel maybe?”

“No, something a little more aerobic,” Clay said.

“Not a run this late at night? Or were you thinking yoga,” Malcolm said, trying to keep a straight face. He failed and ended up laughing as Clay pulled him close.

“Thinking about spanking that ass,” Clay said. “You look so fucking delicious, M.”

Malcolm hummed and gave Clay a kiss. “Guess we better get home then,” he said.

“Damn right,” Clay said. “Let’s go.”

Malcolm grinned and let Clay manhandle him a bit, enjoying the feel of Clay’s hand on his lower back as they made their way from the event space out to where all the cars were waiting. They had agreed to take Clay’s hired car back, so Malcolm let Clay lead the way.

Once in the back of the car, Malcolm laughed when Clay forced him back into the seat, pressing his nose to Malcolm’s neck. The feel of Clay’s beard against his newly bared neck made Malcolm gasp softly at the sensation.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Malcolm groaned. “Feels so good.”

“You look … “ Clay moaned, biting at Malcolm’s jaw. “So delectable.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Malcolm breathed.

“Hair looks fantastic, too,” Clay said, rubbing his nose in the buzzed side of Malcolm’s head.

“Fuck,” Malcolm groaned. “Fuck, Clay.”

“That is the plan,” Clay said. “Once we get home though.”

“Wouldn’t want to give the driver a show,” Malcolm said with a grin.

“He might crash,” Clay agreed, tugging Malcolm close as the car made its way through the traffic towards home.

Malcolm sighed softly, enjoying the feel of Clay’s fingernail running up and down a spot just behind one of his ears. He could have fallen asleep, except for the fact that Clay kept whispering downright dirty things in his ear, which kept Malcolm on edge the entire drive home.

Once they were back home, Malcolm again let Clay manhandle him out of the car a bit.

“Upstairs or downstairs?” Clay asked.

“Upstairs tonight,” Malcolm said. “Definitely upstairs.”

“I was actually thinking the same thing,” Clay admitted. “Feel the need to worship you.”

“Worship, huh?” Malcolm whispered. 

“Worship,” Clay said. “Come on, upstairs.”

Malcolm hummed and followed Clay up the stairs to the bedroom. Once inside, Malcolm began undressing, carefully laying everything aside so it wouldn’t wrinkle. 

When Malcolm finished and turned around, he found Clay by the bed, already naked and watching him.

“Damn Clay,” Malcolm whispered. “You are absolutely stunning.”

“Look who’s talking,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled when Clay closed the space between them and pulled Malcolm in close.

“I’m glad you like the look,” Malcolm said.

“I’m sending Xavier a fucking basket,” Clay said.

“You mean, like a basket filled with toys? A fucking basket?” Malcolm teased.

“I meant a fruit basket, but he’d appreciate a fucking basket, too,” Clay said.

Malcolm started to laugh, but then moaned softly when he felt Clay’s hands running up and down the sides of his head.

“Clay,” Malcolm whispered.

“On the bed, M,” Clay murmured.

Malcolm nodded, standing on his toes and pressing a kiss to Clay’s cheek before laying on the bed.

“Now,” Clay said as he approached the bed. “We’re not downstairs but I might still impose a few rules.”

“All the green, Clay,” Malcolm said. 

“Thought so,” Clay replied. “I’m not going to restrain you, but I’m going to ask that you keep your hands where I put them.”

“Yes,” Malcolm whispered.

“Good,” Clay said as he took Malcolm’s hands and placed them on the headboard. “Leave them there.”

Malcolm grabbed the headboard and smiled up at Clay, spreading his legs a bit.

“Eager?” Clay asked.

“A little,” Malcolm said.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll understand my need to have a little fun first,” Clay said, nosing at the buzzed side of Malcolm’s hair before tugging Malcolm’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Y-yes,” Malcolm gasped. “Fun … fun is good.”

“Thought you’d agree with me,” Clay said.

Malcolm grabbed the headboard tighter when he felt Clay’s beard rub against his collarbone while Clay tweaked one of Malcolm’s nipples. Malcolm whimpered and spread his legs further, wanting to wrap them around Clay, but knowing better.

“Clay,” Malcolm whispered.

“Let me worship,” Clay murmured, running a fingernail down the center of Malcolm’s chest, circling his bellybutton with a smile.

“Please,” Malcolm said.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Clay whispered. “So strong and bright … my bright boy.”

“Yours,” Malcolm said. “Only yours.”

“Mine,” Clay said, wrapping his lips around one of Malcolm’s nipples and giving it a tug.

“Fuck!” Malcolm said. 

“We’re getting there,” Clay said. “Just a little bit longer.”

Malcolm whined and tugged at the headboard a bit, but didn’t release it. Clay released his abraded nipple, then rubbed his beard against it, making Malcolm gasp. Finally, finally, Malcolm felt Clay push two fingers inside him and groaned. 

“Yes,” Malcolm hissed. “Thank you.”

“Oh we’re not done yet,” Clay said.

“Please,” Malcolm said, arching into Clay’s fingers. “Please, Clay.”

“You’re so beautiful like this, Malcolm,” Clay said. “Writhing and begging under my hands.”

“Perfect hands,” Malcolm gasped. “Perfect fucking hands. Please Clay, more.”

“Since you begged so prettily,” Clay said.

Malcolm gasped when he felt a third finger push inside him, stretching him so sweetly. He tugged at the headboard again, biting his lip as he felt Clay give a thrust with his fingers.

“Want you,” Malcolm said.

“Have me, darlin’,” Clay said.

“Not just your fingers,” Malcolm gasped. “Want you.”

“Who am I to deny you?” Clay said.

Malcolm sighed when he felt Clay remove his fingers but then a few moments later felt Clay press inside him and groaned, wrapping his legs around Clay to try to pull him in closer.

“Clay, please,” Malcolm said.

“Patience,” Clay said.

“Trying,” Malcolm replied, biting his lip as he felt Clay press ever so slowly into him.

“If I move will you blow?” Clay asked a few moments later.

“M-maybe,” Malcolm admitted. He gave an experimental shift and gasped when he felt a shiver shoot up his spine. “Move but don’t … don’t touch me yet.”

“You sure, darlin’?” Clay asked. 

Malcolm bit his lip and nodded, groaning when Clay gave a little thrust. Malcolm wrapped his legs tighter around Clay, the heels of his feet resting just under Clay’s ass, urging him forward again. 

“Can I … can I touch you? Please?” Malcolm asked.

“You can move your hands,” Clay said.

Malcolm groaned again, releasing the headboard and putting both hands on Clay’s shoulders.

“Touch me? Please?” Malcolm asked, digging his nails into Clay’s shoulder as Clay thrust again. He almost came the instant he felt one of Clay’s hands wrap around his cock, but Malcolm somehow managed to keep control. Clay started to thrust, then stroke, thrust then stroke and Malcolm knew he wouldn’t last long. Two more strokes and Malcolm came all over himself and Clay, groaning when he felt Clay come inside him.

Malcolm hummed softly when Clay kissed him, grinning at the feel of beard on bare skin.

“Gonna give me beard burn,” Malcolm mumbled, laughing when Clay pinched his hip.

“Least of your worries,” Clay said.

“First worry right now is sticking together,” Malcolm said. “Unsticking two bodies stuck together with come is not a fun kind of pain.”

Clay laughed and nodded. “Very true,” he said. 

Malcolm wiggled a bit when he felt Clay slip out of him, then sighed when Clay climbed off the bed and headed to the bathroom, arriving back a few moments later with two damp washcloths.

“So considerate,” Malcolm said, laughing when Clay threw the washcloth right at his chest.

“I’m a considerate guy,” Clay said as he cleaned himself off.

Malcolm did the same, then tossed the washcloth in the direction of the hamper for later. The bed dipped and Malcolm grinned as Clay joined him back in bed and tugged Malcolm close.

“Award winning novelist Clay Russell,” Malcolm murmured. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“It does, doesn’t it,” Clay said. “Don’t know where to put the damn thing.”

“The bathroom on the first floor,” Malcolm said.

“Why there?”

“So no one has to be embarrassed when they ask you if they can see it and they can practice their own award acceptance speeches,” Malcolm replied, grinning when Clay laughed.

“Maybe,” Clay said.

Malcolm hummed and snuggled into Clay’s arms, tucking his head under Clay’s chin.

“I’m proud of you,” Malcolm said.

“For?” Clay said.

“For following your dream,” Malcolm said. 

“Thank you, darlin’,” Clay said. “I’m proud of you, too.”

Malcolm blushed and pressed a kiss to Clay’s shoulder - he didn’t have to ask why Clay was proud. Clay consistently praised him for working through his issues, being (mostly) off his medications and actually improving.

“Thank you,” Malcolm murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Clay said. “And now that we’ve sufficiently worn each other out, think we should both sleep.”

“Best ideas,” Malcolm mumbled. “You have the best ideas.”

* * * 

Malcolm sometimes forgot how slowly the wheels of justice turned. It had been more than six months since he’d been rescued and aside from a sporadic email from the district attorney or an offhand comment from Gil, Malcolm had almost forgotten about it.

Until he got an email from the district attorney asking him to be in court the next week.

“Clay?”

Malcolm stood in the doorway of Clay’s office, almost hesitantly, watching Clay work.

“What’s goin’ on, M?” Clay asked when he looked up from this computer.

“Got an email from the district attorney,” Malcolm said. “Apparently my captor passed her competency exam with flying colors - no insanity plea. They didn’t need me for that, but seeing as I’m the victim, they want me there for the trial.”

“Are you okay?” Clay asked.

“I think so?” Malcolm said. “Maybe.”

A few moments later Malcolm found himself in Clay’s arms. He sighed softly and melted into Clay, releasing the tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying. 

“You’re tense,” Clay said. 

“Guess so,” Malcolm said softly.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay to do this?” Clay said.

“I am,” Malcolm replied. “I just … the email came as a surprise.”

“Come on, let’s go sit,” Clay said.

Malcolm nodded and let Clay tug him into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with Clay and snuggling into Clay’s arms.

“I actually had forgotten about it,” Malcolm said softly. “Or rather, the trial part of it.”

“Understandable,” Clay said. “The judicial system does move slowly sometimes.”

“I forgot about that,” Malcolm said.

“But, we have a week to discuss everything,” Clay said. “Make sure you’re ready to be in the courtroom next week.”

“I’d like that,” Malcolm said.

“We can even get your therapist in on the conversation, too,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled and nodded. As he had recovered, Clay had demanded that he go talk to someone. He’d started off talking to his child therapist, but she’d quickly figured out he needed to talk to someone else, more well equipped to handle his particular issues - the kidnapping, captivity, repressed memories … So Malcolm had actually seen two separate therapists to work everything out. 

Which had helped immensely. 

“Might be a good idea,” Malcolm agreed.

“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” Clay murmured.

“Which I greatly appreciate,” Malcolm said, humming when Clay started rubbing his back. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” Clay said. “Just a little research on my next book.”

“What’s this one going to be about?”

“H.H. Holmes and the Murder Castle,” Clay said.

“Sounds interesting,” Malcolm said. “Need anyone to help you profile?”

“Maybe,” Clay said slowly.

Malcolm hummed, eyes closing as Clay continued to rub his back.

“You’ll come with me?” Malcolm asked after a few minutes.

“Of course I will,” Clay said. “And I’m sure your mother, Ainsley, Jameson, Gil and the rest of the team will come, too. We’ll all be there to support you.”

“That would be incredibly helpful,” Malcolm said.

“I’ll get everyone in the know,” Clay said. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Just to show up,” Malcolm said. “Confront my kidnapper. In court.” He felt his heart starting to race and bit his lip, then sighed when he felt Clay’s hand on his back.

“Do you need to go downstairs?” Clay asked gently “I can practically hear your wheels turning.”

Malcolm swallowed and nodded.

“Please,” Malcolm said. “I just need …”

“The quiet,” Clay said with a nod. “Okay, downstairs.”

Malcolm climbed off the couch and led the way downstairs. Once in the playroom he tugged off his shirt and immediately headed to the St Andrews Cross.

“That what you want?” Clay asked.

“Please,” Malcolm said. “The flogger?”

Clay nodded and helped secure Malcolm into the cross, and Malcolm sighed when he felt Clay’s hand gently caress his back. 

“My bright boy,” Clay whispered.

“Yours.”

Malcolm closed his eyes and let his body relax against the cross. At the first slap of the fronds against his back, Malcolm gasped. Sometimes hard, sometimes soft, left shoulder, right shoulder, upper back, lower back … the rhythm very quickly sent Malcolm under. Everything went quiet and Malcolm just floated … 

Malcolm barely registered when Clay finally released him and carried him over to the bed. The cool sheets against his stomach made Malcolm sigh softly and he hissed a bit when he felt Clay’s beard against his back.

“Better?” Clay asked softly.

“Better,” Malcolm mumbled. “Floaty. Quiet.”

“Good,” Clay said. “It’s all going to be okay, M.”

“Cuz you’re here,” Malcolm whispered.

“Because I’m here.”

* * * 

“I can’t believe it’s done.”

Malcolm stood on the steps outside the courthouse and sighed. The trial was done and his captor had been sent to prison for a very long time. Malcolm had been there every day of the trial, even the days where he hadn’t testified. He’d wanted his captor to see him. To see that he was okay.

He’d made sure he looked his best and healthiest, visiting Xavier just before for a touch up and getting a few new suits.

“Done and over,” Jessica said. “And good riddance.”

“Exactly,” Ainsley said, snuggling against Jameson.

“This is a good day,” Clay said. “I think we should go celebrate.”

“You guys should celebrate.” Gil joined them all on the steps and smiled. “Go out for dinner.”

“Care to join us?” Malcolm offered.

“I have some paperwork to catch up on,” Gil said. “You guys go.”

“I have some notes for you on that new case,” Malcolm said.

“You can get them to me next week,” Gil said. “Go have dinner, enjoy the weekend.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm said. “Really.”

“I say we find the fanciest place that’ll take walk ins,” Jameson said.

“Oh please, we can do better than that,” Jessica said. “Rich people can get in anywhere.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes - some things about his mother really never changed.

“Okay, well I think a celebratory steak is in order,” Jameson said.

“I’m game for that,” Clay said. “So long as there’s something for Malcolm to eat as well.

“I’m sure we can find someplace to accomodate all of us,” Ainsley said.

After checking places on phones and a bit of arguing back and forth, everyone finally decided on a restaurant for a celebratory meal. They all took off in cabs and cars and met back up at the restaurant, where Jessica’s money and dropping the Milton name got them a private room at the back of the restaurant.

They ordered drinks (champagne for Jessica and Ainsley, beer for Jameson and bourbon for Malcolm and Clay) and stood around the table for a toast.

“To endings and new beginnings,” Malcolm said.

“New beginnings?” Jessica asked. “Something I need to know about?”

“No Mother, just a generic toast to celebrate the end of the trial and to look forward to new things,” Malcolm said.

“Are you sure?” Jessica asked.

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “At least for me, but I wouldn’t know about Ainsley.” He laughed at the glare his sister shot him, but Malcolm needed a reprieve from being the center of his mother’s attention.

While Jessica interrogated Ainsley and, by default Jameson, Malcolm sipped his bourbon and leaned against Clay.

“We should have a separate celebration,” Clay said.

“Well, you still haven’t taken me back to A Murder of Crows,” Malcolm pointed out.

“I could do that,” Clay said. “Would need to take you shopping first.”

“I figured as much,” Malcolm said. “Even if you kept the stuff from ten years ago, it probably wouldn’t fit anymore.”

“Probably not,” Clay murmured.

“What are you two talking about over there?” Jessica asked.

“Nothing of consequence, Mother,” Malcolm said.

“Good, then look at the menu and decide what you want, I’m famished,” Jessica said. “The sooner we order, the sooner we eat.”

The rest of the meal passed remarkably well considering. Jessica kept her interrogations to a minimum, Ainsley only got a little drunk and Malcolm managed to keep from crawling into Clay’s lap. By the time dessert rolled around, however, it was clear the day had taken a toll on everyone.

“I love you guys,” Ainsley said as she got to her feet, swaying a bit. “So much.”

“Love you too, Ains,” Malcolm said, giving Jameson a grateful smile when Jameson helped Ainsley keep from toppling over.

“And on that note, we’re going to go home,” Jameson said.

“Are we going to f -” Ainsley started.

“Sleep, we’re going to sleep,” Jameson said, putting a hand over Ainsley’s mouth.

“Uh-huh,” Malcolm said as he stood. “Water and aspirin.”

“That’s the plan,” Jameson said, then turned to Jessica. “Good night, Mrs. Whitly.”

“Good night Jameson,” Jessica said.

“Good night Mother!” Ainsley said.

“Good night Ainsley,” Jessica said, shaking her head fondly.

Malcolm watched Jameson maneuver Ainsley from the room, smiling when he felt Clay’s arm around his waist, pulling Malcolm in close. The bourbon he’d had sat warm in Malcolm’s stomach and everything just felt … good.

“I should get going, too,” Jessica said. “I have a few meetings tomorrow with some of my charities.”

“Good night, Mother,” Malcolm said. “I really appreciate you being there today.”

“I wouldn’t have been anywhere else,” Jessica said. “Good night, Clay.”

“Good night Jessica,” Clay said. “Ride safe.”

“I always do,” Jessica said.

Then it was just Malcolm and Clay. Malcolm leaned against Clay and sighed happily.

“Ready to go home?” Clay asked.

“Very ready,” Malcolm said. “Let’s go home.”

The two of them left the restaurant and headed home. In the backseat of the car, Malcolm watched the city go by, just contemplating everything that had happened in the last eighteen months. Outside the window, the city looked as it always had - but Malcolm knew looks could be deceiving. The city was always moving, always changing.

In a way, Malcolm considered himself a bit like the city. Minor changes to the outside, but the infrastructure was always changing, growing stronger. Malcolm had changed so much in during his captivity and since then … sometimes he didn’t even recognize himself.

“Deep thoughts?”

Malcolm turned to look at Clay and smiled.

“Deep and meaningful,” Malcolm replied.

“Care to share?” 

The car came to a stop and Malcolm blinked as he realized they were home. Clay looked at him expectantly, waiting for Malcolm to respond.

“Inside,” Malcolm said, nodding to their house. “I’ll share inside.”

Clay nodded and the two of them exited the car and headed inside, straight upstairs to their bedroom. Suits were shucked, the bed turned down and soon Malcolm and Clay were cuddled together under the covers.

“Deep and meaningful thoughts?” Clay prompted.

“I was just thinking about how much I’ve changed,” Malcolm murmured. “I was comparing myself to the city - from the outside it looks pretty much the same, but a closer inspection shows changes, things you wouldn’t immediately notice.”

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. “How do you feel about those changes?”

Malcolm shrugged, running a finger up and down Clay’s arm. 

“Not sure,” Malcolm admitted. “Sometimes I don’t recognize myself. I’m not the same man I was before.”

“No, you’re not,” Clay said. 

“It’s just … things were taken from me, forced upon me,” Malcolm whispered. He’d spoken with his therapists about it, in clinical terms, but talking to Clay was different.

“They were,” Clay said. “And somehow you managed to survive and come out the other side.”

“But I’m different,” Malcolm said.

“Is that so bad?” Clay said. “I’ve watched you these past six months, M. You are still you. Still my beautiful, bright boy. Your heart is still the same.”

Malcolm sniffed, suddenly realizing he’d been crying.

“No,” Malcolm whispered. “Not necessarily.”

“Then there you go,” Clay said. “You’ve changed but that doesn’t mean the heart of you changed.”

Malcolm sniffed again, feeling tears fall down his face and drop on Clay’s shoulder.

“I’m crying all over you,” Malcolm whispered.

“That’s okay, darlin’,” Clay whispered. “It’s okay to cry.”

Malcolm chuckled a bit, remembering his own message to Clay after getting rescued. He sniffed again, resting his forehead on Clay’s shoulder as he cried quietly for a few more minutes before he finally stopped, sighing softly, snuggling into Clay’s arms.

“But you still love me,” Malcolm said.

“I still love you,” Clay murmured.

“Gonna take me to A Murder of Crows?” Malcolm asked sleepily.

“Damn right I will,” Clay said. “Gonna show off my bright boy.”

“Good.”

* * * 

A few weeks later, Malcolm woke on Saturday morning to see Clay standing over him.

“Morning,” Clay said.

“Morning,” Malcolm said. “What time is it?”

“Early,” Clay said. “We have plans today.”

“We do?” Malcolm asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. “Time to get up - get some yoga and a run in before our errands.”

Malcolm groaned and rolled out of bed, shuffling over to the dresser to grab running clothes. Tugging the clothes on, he followed Clay out to the backyard, smiling at the familiar ritual of morning yoga before a run. When they got back from their 5 mile run, they did another round of yoga before heading into the kitchen for breakfast.

“So are you going to fill me in on these plans that we have?” Malcolm asked as he watched Clay make two omelets. 

“Maybe,” Clay said as he set a plate in front of Malcolm.

“Maybe?” Malcolm asked, taking the plate and the cup of tea placed in front of him.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. 

“Mean,” Malcolm teased, happily eating his omelet.

“You love me,” Clay singsonged as he sat next to Malcolm with his own omelet and a cup of coffee.

“I do,” Malcolm said. “Dammit.”

“Finish your omelet, we have a busy day,” Clay said. “We have an appointment at 11:30 we need to make.”

Malcolm glanced down at his phone, noted the time, and ate a bit quicker.

“That’s my boy,” Clay said. “When you’re done, we’ll grab a shower and head out.”

“Shower together?” Malcolm asked.

“Well, you have been good,” Clay said. “Just don’t wash your hair.”

Malcolm frowned, but nodded.

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly. “No washing my hair.”

“All will be revealed,” Clay said.

When breakfast was done, Malcolm helped Clay wash dishes and put them on the rack to dry. With the dishes handled, the two of them headed upstairs where they quickly showered (Malcolm remembering to not wash his hair) and got ready to head back out.

“Comfortable clothes, M,” Clay said.

“Okay,” Malcolm said, tugging on a pair of workout pants and a plain black t-shirt. He turned and found Clay dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, an overnight bag over his shoulder.

“Sneakers will be fine, M,” Clay said.

“We going somewhere?”Malcolm asked.

“Maybe,” Clay replied. “Best get going.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes but followed Clay down the stairs and out the door to the waiting car. Malcolm climbed into the car while Clay put the bag into the trunk of the car, then leaned against Clay when he joined Malcolm in the car.

“How’s the book coming?” Malcolm asked.

“H.H. Holmes was a nutjob,” Clay said.

“Well we knew that,” Malcolm said.

“Not like this,” Clay said.

“I look forward to reading it,” Malcolm said.

“First draft is yours,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled and relaxed against Clay as the car made its way through the city to their destination. When the car finally came to a stop, Malcolm looked out the window and smiled when he recognized a familiar red door with a gold and black rose without a door knob.

“Welcome back to La Rose D'or,” Clay said.

Malcolm smiled and leaned over, giving Clay a sweet kiss before climbing out of the car and heading right over to the door.

A few moments later Clay joined Malcolm and knocked on one of the petals, causing the door to open inward.

“Someday you’ll have to tell me more about this place,” Malcolm said, following Clay into the foyer. 

“Someday I will,” Clay said. “But not today. Today we have an appointment.”

“Right, an appointment,” Malcolm said. “Not vague at all.”

“Might be a little out of your comfort zone, but I promise you’ll enjoy everything,” Clay said.

“I trust you,” Malcolm said, taking Clay’s hand in his and letting Clay lead him from the foyer into the shop proper.

It had been so long, but the store still looked the same; the large first floor filled with toys and the top two floors filled with clothes. Malcolm took a moment to take everything in, looking around and getting reacclimated with everything, but then Clay was suddenly pulling him through the shop.

“Right, right, appointment,” Malcolm said, chuckling as Clay navigated them around the racks to the back of the shop.

“Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting,” Clay said. “She’ll tear me a new one.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly.

They reached a small alcove with a door bearing a gold rose painted on it. Clay knocked on it and it immediately opened.

“You were almost late!”

“Almost, but not!” Clay said. 

“Well come on in, I’ve got everything set aside.”

Malcolm stepped inside the room behind Clay and came face to face with a petite brunette who stood staring at him, hands on her hips.

“So, you’re Clay’s M,” the woman said.

“Y-yes?” Malcolm said.

“M, this is August,” Clay said. “And yes August, this is M.”

“Nice to meet you,” Malcolm said.

“You’re cute,” August said. “I understand why you picked blue, Clay.”

“Is someone going to clue me in?” Malcolm asked.

“August hand makes clothing,” Clay said. “I contacted her a few weeks ago to help me make you something special.”

“Oh, okay,” Malcolm said.

“So step on up on the pedestal,” August said. “I wanna check my measurements before we bring everything out.”

Malcolm stepped up onto the pedestal and watched August move around the room, apparently searching for her tape measure. Malcolm tried not to stare, but August was interesting. She didn’t hide her differences, but broadcast them, choosing to decorate her body in piercings and unique hairstyles - Malcolm barely knew her but already liked her.

“Found it!” August came back over to the pedestal, waving the tape measure around. “Clay you can watch, just don’t get in my way.”

“Got it,” Clay said, leaning against a wall and giving Malcolm a smile.

“And you, M, stand still while I get my measurements,” August said, giving Malcolm a mock menacing glare.

“Standing still,” Malcolm said, watching as August moved around him and took her measurements, some which were a little … personal. 

“Good, everything matches,” August said. “Okay M, strip down to your undies and we’ll get this tried on.”

Malcolm spared a glance over at Clay and, at Clay’s nod, he stripped down, folding everything and setting it on the floor.

“Damn Clay,” August said, glancing over her shoulder from her spot at her work table across the room. “Boy is nice.”

“Oh I am well aware,” Clay said. 

Malcolm watched as August grabbed some stuff from her work table and approached the pedestal. 

“Ready for this?” August asked.

“I guess?” Malcolm said.

“Okay,” August said. “Voila!” 

Malcolm watched as August held out two items for Malcolm’s inspection. At first glance one of the items looked like a long shirt but … it was a dress. Bright blue velvet, one shouldered and somehow had a feminine shape even as it was just hanging from August’s hand. In her other hand was a dark blue leather corset, a pair of black thigh high fishnets and a pair of blue satin panties.

“Oh,” Malcolm said softly.

“Now, I just want to make sure the dress looks right on you,” August said. “Everything else is going into a bag for later.”

“Check in with me, M,” Clay said softly.

Malcolm eyed the dress hanging from August’s hand and swallowed.

“Green,” Malcolm whispered.

“My bright boy,” Clay said. 

Malcolm watched August bring the dress over to him and he hesitantly took it from her hand.

“Should just slip right over your head,” August said gently. “Strap goes on the right shoulder.”

“Right,” Malcolm said, taking a moment to rub the fabric between his fingers, smiling a bit. Taking a deep breath he slipped the dress on over his head and tugged it down, watching as it hit just above his knees. From the right shoulder to his left armpit, the fabric draped a bit, creating a bit of feminine illusion.

“Damn I’m good,” August said.

“And with the corset it’s going to look perfect,” Clay said.

Malcolm stood there for a few more minutes while August flitted around him a bit and checked to make sure everything fit okay.

“I have the accessories here as well,” August said, pointing to a smaller bag.

“Put then in the bigger bag with everything else,” Clay said. “Malcolm, go ahead and get out of that and back into your other clothes.”

Malcolm nodded and slipped the dress off and passed it over to August before getting back into his workout pants and t shirt.

“And here you go,” August said, passing the bag over to Clay.

“Perfect,” Clay said. “M, we’ve got another appointment to get to.”

Malcolm nodded and gave August a smile.

“It was nice to meet you,” Malcolm said.

“Same, cutie,” August said. “Make sure Clay gets a picture of you on in the whole look, okay? I need to see it.”

“Oh I’m sure he’ll want a picture or two,” Malcolm said.

“I’m sure,” August said. “Go on, he’s waiting for you.”

Malcolm nodded and gave August a wave before joining Clay at the door.

“Thanks August,” Clay said. “See you soon.”

“Look forward to it,” August said.

Malcolm tucked himself against Clay’s side as they made their way back through the store to the entrance.

“One of these days I’m going to make you let me windowshop,” Malcolm said. “The two times we’ve been I haven’t been able to explore.”

“Next time I promise to let you explore,” Clay said.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Malcolm said. “Where are we going to next? Or is the whole day going to be a surprise.”

“We’re going to see Xavier,” Clay said.

“I’m supposed to see him next week,” Malcolm said, running a hand through his hair.

“This is for something … different,” Clay said. “You’re still coming back next week with me.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said as the two of them left the shop and climbed into the car. “Can I ask a question?”

“You can, I reserve the right to not answer,” Clay replied.

Malcolm rolled his eyes and slapped Clay’s arm as they buckled in.

“A dress?” Malcolm asked. “I mean, I know that you love me how I am … and you don’t want me to be a woman …”

“Remember what I said all those years ago?” Clay said. “That sometimes what a man needs is a good dress?”

Malcolm nodded, humming when he felt Clay running a hand up and down his arm.

“Sometimes playing with gender is fun,” Clay said. “Sometimes a beautiful dress is just what you need to … let go a bit.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said softly. “I do trust you.”

“I know, and I will never abuse that trust,” Clay replied.

“Love you,” Malcolm said.

“Love you too,” Clay said. “Ready for the next appointment? It really is going to be out of your comfort zone.”

“As long as you’re there,” Malcolm said.

“I wouldn’t dare leave you alone for any of this,” Clay said. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, smiling when he felt Clay press a kiss to his hair.

“My brave, bright boy,” Clay said.

Malcolm relaxed against Clay as the car made its way from La Rose D'or to Xavier’s shop. When the car came to a stop, Clay climbed out first and helped Malcolm out, ushering Malcolm to the door and inside. Malcolm stayed quiet and let Clay take care of talking to the receptionist for a few minutes until Xavier appeared.

“Clay! Malcolm!” Xavier said. “I was so excited when I found Malcolm on the books with those particular treatments.”

“Someone going to fill me in?” Malcolm asked.

“He doesn’t know?” Xavier said.

“He’s a little more in the know now that we’ve just come from seeing August,” Clay said.

“Oh,” Xavier said slowly. “Well, you’re on the books for a few things and we’ll take care of at least one of them in the back room.”

“And I’ll be there the whole time,” Clay promised.

“You’d better,” Malcolm muttered. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Follow me!” Xavier said, leading the way through the shop.

Malcolm followed both Xavier and Clay to a back room that’ he’d never noticed before.

“Not many people come into this room,” Xavier said. “We do some … unconventional things here if you know to ask for them.”

“And Clay knows to ask for them,” Malcolm said.

“Honey, Clay was the one who convinced me to start offering them,” Xavier said.

Malcolm heard the door close behind him and took a moment to glance around the room. It looked very much like a regular treatment room, with a padded covered table and a sink and a table along the wall.

“M, darlin’,” Clay said. “You’re actually probably going to hate this while it’s happening but I suspect you might like it afterwards and I will definitely make it up to you.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly.

“I want you to strip down and lie on the table, face up,” Clay said. “Xavier is going to wax your legs and then, since I’m possessive, I’m going to do a little manscaping.”

Malcolm froze for a second, but then nodded and started to strip down. In most things, Malcolm very much had a mind of his own, but he found that he liked when Clay took a bit of control away from him. It was comforting.

When he was undressed, Malcolm laid down on the table on his back and waited patiently.

“You actually don’t have a lot of hair on your legs,” Xavier said. “So this should go pretty quick.”

“Good to know,” Malcolm said. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do with his hands, smiling when he felt Clay take one of his hands and squeeze it.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Clay said softly.

“Indulging you usually leads to good things for me,” Malcolm said.

“Usually,” Clay replied with a chuckle.

“Okay, let me know if the wax is too hot,” Xavier said.

“My boy’s got a high pain tolerance,” Clay said.

“Clay speaks the truth,” Malcolm said. “Really high pain tolerance.”

“Interesting,” Xavier said.

Malcolm hummed a bit as Xavier applied the wax, then the strip, rubbing it briskly before quickly ripping it away. It barely registered for Malcolm and he heard Xavier hum appreciatively. Wax, strip, rub, rip. Wax, strip, rub, rip. Shins, calves and thighs, Xavier worked quickly until Malcolm’s legs were stripped of hair from ankle to hip.

“Feeling okay?” Clay asked as Xavier cleaned up and then left Clay and Malcolm alone.

“Little burning,” Malcolmd admitted.

“I can do the aloe now, or wait until after the next part,” Clay said. “Your choice.”

“Wait,” Malcolm said. “I can wait.”

“Good boy,” Clay said.

Malcolm sighed at the flush of pleasure he felt at Clay’s simple compliment. He felt Clay extract his hand from Malcolm’s, then heard Clay over at the table gathering whatever he needed. When Clay came back into his line of sight, Malcolm gave him a smile.

“I’m going to do a little trimming,” Clay said. “Nothing drastic, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Malcolm said, smiling when he felt Clay cup his cheek for a moment.

Maclolm felt a towel laid across his thighs, then heard the sound of the clippers. He closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and placed his trust in Clay. After a few minutes the clippers were turned off and Malcolm couldn’t help but chuckle a bit when he felt Clay gently blow on his groin to get rid of stray hairs.

“Wanna check?” Clay asked.

Malcoplm opened one eye and gave Clay a smile.

“No, I trust you,” Malcolm said.

“Okay,” Clay said with a grin. “Aloe?”

“Please,” Malcolm said. 

“It’s a lotion that’s infused with aloe so it should soothe the sting,” Clay said.

Malcolm laid back and sighed when he felt Clay’s hands on his legs, calloused fingers and palms rubbing the lotion into his legs, taking great care to make sure every inch of skin from Malcolm’s ankles to hips were moisturized and soothed by the aloe lotion.

“Feeling a bit like jelly,” Malcolm admitted when Clay finally stopped. He got up on his elbows and watched Clay with a smile. “You always take such good care of me.”

“I try,” Clay said.

“You succeed,” Malcolm said as he sat up and shifted so his legs hung off the table, swinging a bit.

“Good to know,” Clay murmured, running a hand up and down Malcolm’s thigh.

“Oh,” Malcolm whispered, staring down at Clay’s hand. “That feels … “

“Good?” Clay said. “I thought you would like it.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said slowly.

“Come on and get dressed, there’s a couple more things to do,” Clay said. “Then you’ll come back in here and I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said as he hopped off the table and tugged his clothes back on. The pants certainly felt different against his legs, and Malcolm couldn’t help but rub his legs a bit as he followed Clay from the room over to Xavier’s station.

“Come take a seat,” Xavier said, patting his chair invitingly. “Clay came and talked to me a few days ago so I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Of course he did,” Malcolm said as he sat down and let Xavier cape him.

“So, I’m going to trim the back and sides a little,” Xavier said. “And then we’ll handle the top.”

“Sure,” Malcolm said, watching in the mirror as Clay stepped into view. “It’s Clay’s show tonight.”

“Can’t wait to see how this turns out,” Clay said. “Half tempted to have Xaiver cover the mirror, but a bigger part of me wants you to see the transformation.”

Malcolm shivered a bit at Clay’s words, giving him an almost shy smile in the mirror.

“Okay, you tell me if you’re going to cough or sneeze,” Xavier said as he approached Malcolm with the clippers.

“Noted,” Malcolm said, sitting very still as Xavier worked carefully around him. When the clippers were set aside, Malcolm turned his head from side to side looking at the stark difference between the top and the sides.

“Not bad,” Clay said.

“Now you’ll be back next week and we’ll trim the top, but there is something else in store for you tonight,” Xavier said.

“I figured,” Malcolm said with a smile.

“Now that I’ve gotten to know your hair,” Xavier said. “I have learned that if I want to do something particular, we’ll have to work at it.”

“My hair, as always, is in your hands,” Malcolm said.

“Damn right,” Xavier said.

Malcolm winked at Clay in the mirror, then watched as Xavier moved around him armed with a can of hairspray, a comb and … a curling iron. As Malcolm watched in the mirror, Xavier transformed Malcolm’s hair into a mass of curls. He blinked at his reflection - it was certainly different.

“Looks good,” Clay said.

“Just one more thing,” Xavier said.

Malcolm watched as Xavier took a moment and ran his fingers through Malcolm’s hair, separating the curls out a bit before covering it all in a coat of hairspray.

“Now this part is done,” Xavier said. “Damn Malcolm, this is a damn good look for you.”

“It’s different,” Malcolm said.

“Fucking beautiful,” Clay murmured.

Malcolm blushed a bit at the compliment. The whole day was out of his comfort zone but … Malcolm had actually started to enjoy it.

“So, what next?” Malcolm asked.

“Now we bring in Q,” Xavier said. “I can’t do this next step - it’s best left to Q.”

“Who’s Q?” Malcolm asked.

“Me!” A figure approached Malcolm from the side and rolled a cart up next to the chair. Androgynous with bright blonde hair and green eyes, Q wore a pair of skinny jeans and an artfully stressed and ripped purple t-shirt.

“Hello,” Malcolm said. “And what is your specialty?”

“Makeup,” Q said.

Malcolm blinked and looked at Clay in the mirror.

“I promise nothing overdone,” Clay said. “Q is just here to … emphasize.”

“Emphasize indeed,” Q said. “Damn Malcolm, your eyes are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm said.

“This is going to go pretty quick,” Q said as they rummaged through their cart. “You don’t need much at all.”

Malcolm took a deep breath and nodded, finding Clay in the mirror and giving him a small smile. Then Q obscured his vision and Malcolm got a little lost in the sensation of powder and brushes on his face and Q applying mascara to his lashes. When Q finally stepped aside, Malcolm caught sight of himself in the mirror and froze, barely daring to breathe. 

“Is that me?” Malcolm asked softly.

“Yep,” Q said. “That’s you, honey.”

“Oh,” Malcolm said. Hair a riot of curls and his face highlighted and contoured, eyes wide with eyeliner and mascara … Malcolm looked like a completely different person.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Clay said.

“I can’t wait to see the whole look come together,” Xavier said as he hurried over and removed Malcolm’s cape.

“The urge to mess all this up is overwhelming because you look fucking beautiful,” Clay said. “Everyone is going to be staring at you tonight, wishing you were theirs.”

“But I’m yours,” Malcolm said.

“Damn right,” Clay said.

“You two can go to the back room and get changed,” Xavier said. “I put Clay’s bag back there with Malcolm’s stuff.”

“Perfect,” Clay said as he moved around the chair and helped Malcolm to his feet. “Come on darlin’, time to get ready.”

“Lead the way,” Malcolm said, giving Clay’s hand a squeeze as they headed to the back room together. 

Once inside, Malcolm saw Clay’s overnight bag on the table next to the bag with his stuff. He crossed the room and ran a hand over the bag.

“We’re going to get you dressed first and then I’m going to change,” Clay said. “So you have a little time to get used to it all.”

“I appreciate it,” Malcolm murmured.

“So first, you’ll need to strip down,” Clay said.

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed, already complying. Shoes, shirt, pants and underwear all went onto the table and Malcolm stood waiting patiently for Clay to open the bag and pass Malcolm his first item.

The first item Clay passed Malcolm were the satin panties and Malcolm rubbed the fabric between his fingers for a moment before slipping them on, blinking as the satin rubbed enticingly against his ass.

“These are thigh highs and have a little thing to keep them from rolling down,” Clay said as he passed Malcolm the next two items.

“Okay,” Malcolm said, taking the fishnets from Clay and eyeing them for a moment, before slipping on first one, then the other, fishnet stocking. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of the fishnets against his skin, smiling when he managed to get the seam perfectly straight along the back of his legs.

“Perfect,” Clay said. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm said, feeling a little uncertain, a little hesitant.

“I know that this is so far from your comfort zone,” Clay said. “And I thank you for trusting yourself to me.”

“I do trust you,” Malcolm said. “And funny enough this is … nice. Uncertainty aside, this is nice.”

“Wait until everyone at the club sees you,” Clay murmured. “Ready for the next piece?”

Malcolm nodded and took the dress, rubbing the velvet between his fingers again before slipping it over his head, careful not to mess his hair and his makeup. When he had the dress settled over him, he ran his hands down the velvet a bit, smiling a bit shyly.

“Finishing touches,” Clay said. “I know you’ve never worn a corset before, so I’ll be sure not to lace it too tightly.”

“Appreciated,” Malcolm said, watching as Clay lifted the dark blue leather corset out of the bag. He’d seen corsets before, obviously, but it was different to see one he knew he’s soon be wearing.

“Turn around, darlin’,” Clay said.

Malcolm complied, watching as Clay wrapped the corset around his waist, taking a moment to run a hand over the dark blue leather.

“It’s beautifully made,” Malcolm said softly.

“August is, if nothing, a consummate perfectionist,” Clay said. “Now, I’m going to ask you to take a deep breath and hold it while I lace you in.”

Malcolm hummed and nodded. He took a deep breath, feeling his diaphragm expand, then held his breath. The feeling of Clay tightening the laces on the corset, jerking Malcolm ever so slightly, was a bit odd. Tighter, tighter, tighter … then Clay tied the corset off and gave Malcolm’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Tell me if something feels wrong,” Clay said.

Malcolm released his breath and took a moment to adjust to the feeling of the corset. It sat snugly around his ribs and waist and Malcolm was intrigued to see what he looked like given how tight Clay had tied it.

“It feels fine,” Malcolm said. “A little constricting, but I suspect that was the intent.”

“Got it in one, darlin’,” Clay said. “I brought a long coat for you and a pair of slippers for you to wear into the club.”

“Appreciated,” Malcolm said.

“I’m going to get changed and then we’ll add your final touches,” Clay said. “Xavier will take his pictures and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said.

Malcolm itched to try to see what he looked like, but focused instead of Clay getting undressed. Malcolm never got tired of looking at him, at watching the muscles ripple under Clay’s skin as Clay stripped down. The more skin that was revealed, the more Malcolm wanted to touch.

Clay tossed a wink over his shoulder before unzipping the overnight bag and pulling out his clothes.

Malcolm sighed at the sight of brown leather and a flash of blue very close to the color of his own dress. Brown leather pants, brown work boots and a very tight blue v-neck.

“Damn,” Malcolm whispered.

“Like what you see?” Clay said.

“You know I do,” Malcolm said.

“Good,” Clay said. “Just a few more things for you.”

Malcolm nodded and watched as Clay headed back over to the overnight bag, pulling out a pair of slippers, the coat and two jewelry boxes.

“I still have the cuff from the New Years’ gala, but it doesn’t really go with tonight’s outfit,” Clay said. “So these will just have to do.”

Malcolm watched as Clay opened the first jewelry box, sighing softly at the sight of the wide sterling silver cuff. On closer inspection, Malcolm saw the engraving on the cuff, beautiful script which said ‘Property of Clay Russell’.

“Possessive,” Malcolm breathed.

“Tonight even more than usual, M,” Clay said. “Everyone’s going to be so damn jealous of me for having you … gotta make sure they know you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Malcolm murmured, holding out his wrist so Clay could put the cuff on. Clay’s warm, calloused fingers on his wrist made Malcolm smile and the cuff sat snuggly, a constant reminder.

“Damn right,” Clay said. “One more.”

Malcolm watched as Clay opened the bigger jewelry box and blinked at what looked to be a simple sterling silver necklace. There was a loop at one end and a larger loop on the other … 

“Clay,” Malcolm said softly.

“You always call me possessive, darlin’,” Clay said as he lifted the necklace out of the box. “Another way to show it, this time a little more overtly.”

Malcolm held still as Clay slipped the necklace carefully around his neck and Malcolm blinked as Clay tightened the larger loop a bit around his neck. The necklace was longer than Malcolm had originally assumed and he blinked as Clay slipped the end loop around Malcolm’s wrist.

“A leash,” Malcolm whispered, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

“When we’re in the club, I’ll hold the lead,” Clay said softly. “Gotta make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

“You,” Malcolm said. “I belong to you.”

“I want to kiss you right now, but once I start I won’t stop,” Clay said. “Best let Xavier get his pictures in before we go to the club.”

“I’ll wait right here for you to get him,” Malcolm said.

Clay disappeared from the room and came back moments later with Xavier in tow.

“Hot damn!” Xavier said. “Malcolm you look absolutely spectacular! I must have pictures.”

“Which is why you're here,” Malcolm said. 

“I want a few of Malcolm alone and then a few couple shots,” Xavier said.

“Take as many as you want, just make sure you send them to me,” Clay said.

“Will do!” Xavier said. “Come stand over here, Malcolm and let me take some pictures.”

Malcolm grinned and let Xavier pose him for a few pictures. After Xavier got his fill of solo shots, Clay joined Malcolm for some more pictures. Malcolm hummed and tucked himself against Clay’s side.

“Fantastic,” Xaiver said. “And now I will let Cinderella and his prince charming go to the ball.”

“Very funny,” Malcolm said.

“I’m a funny guy,” Xavier said. “You two have fun tonight - want to hear all about it next week when I see you two again.”

Malcolm smiled as Xavier left them alone.

“Cinderella, huh?” Malcolm said.

“I’m sure Xavier does kind of see himself as your fairy godmother,” Clay said with a chuckle.

“Probably,” Malcolm said with a grin. “I’ve been looking forward to going back to A Murder of Crows.”

“I know,” Clay said. 

Malcolm smiled and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to Clay’s cheek.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish yet, darlin’,” Clay said.

“I’ll be good,” Malcolm said.

“I know you will,” Clay said. “Here, let’s get your shoes and coat on and then we can get going.”

Malcolm hummed and slipped his feet into the slippers Clay dropped on the floor, then smiled as Clay helped him into the long coat. Malcolm smiled at the bit of protection the coat provided him from everyone else out in the shop.

“I’m ready,” Malcolm whispered. “I’m ready.”

“I know you are,” Clay said. “Let’s go.”

Malcolm tucked himself against Clay’s side as the two of them left the back room, walked through the shop and out to the waiting car. After tossing the overnight bag into the trunk, Clay joined Maclolm inside the car, pulling Malcolm close.

Malcolm take a few deep breaths as the car headed from Xavier’s shop to A Murder of Crows. He was nervous, he was excited, he was … ready.

He was ready.

When the car came to a stop, Malcolm waited patiently as Clay exited the car first, then Clay help him out. Malcolm wrapped the coat a bit tighter around himself as they headed for the door, watching as Clay knocked on the door. As before, the peephole opened and and a few moments later the door opened. 

Maclolm followed Clay inside, smiling at the familiar sight of the small, wood paneled foyer, the cubbies for shoes and Charlie there by the door.

“Clay!” Charlie exclaimed.

“Good to see you, Charlie,” Clay said. “Remember Malcolm?”

“From the New Years’ gala,” Charlie said. “Hard to forget. How you been?”

“It’s been … interesting,” Malcolm said.

“It’s good to see you,” Charlie said. “Clay’s been a downright bear without you.”

“Malcolm, shoes in a cubby and I’ll take your coat to hang up,” Clay said.

Malcolm nodded and stepped out of the slippers, putting them in a cubby before shrugging out of his coat and passing it to Clay.

“Shit, Clay,” Charlie said. “Everyone’s going to be fucking jealous. But I’m guessing that was the idea, right?”

“You know me so well,” Clay said. “GIve me your wrist, darlin’.”

Malcolm smiled and passed his wrist over to Clay, watching as Clay removed the necklace lead from Malcolm’s wrist and wrapped it around his own.

“I’m ready,” Malcolm whispered.

“I know you are,” Clay replied softly. “Let’s go inside.”

Malcolm nodded. Back straight, head held high, he followed Clay into the club. Clay stopped just inside the door, making sure everyone saw them before making his way slowly thought the club, Malcolm keeping a brisk pace behind him, the lead from Clay’s wrist to Malcolm’s neck showing everyone just who Maclolm belonged to.

Malcolm felt everyone’s eyes on them as they made their way from the club entrance to the bar, where Clay ordered them each a bourbon.

“Want to just watch for a while?” Clay asked.

“Watch and be watched,” Malcolm replied softly. “For now.”

“For now,” Clay agreed.

Malcolm hummed and let Clay lead the way over to the couches where Clay sat down first, then pulled Malcolm down onto his lap. Malcolm chuckled and shimmied a bit on Clay’s lap before taking a sip of bourbon.

“Start thinking about what you want to do, darlin’,” Clay murmured. “Tonight’s all about you, what you want.”

Malcolm hummed and nodded. “I will,” he said softly.

“I know you like the cross,” Clay said softly. “And the flogger.”

“Maybe it’s time to try something new,” Malcolm replied. “Tonight is already full of newness.”

“Which is why I figured some comfort, but if you want something new,” Clay said. “I was never one to deny you.”

“I like the swing,” Malcolm whispered.

“Do you, now?” Clay said softly.

Malcolm hummed and nodded.

“I’ll keep that mind,” Clay murmured, pressing a kiss to the buzzed side of Malcolm’s head. “I love your hair like this.”

“Yeah?” Malcolm asked, shivering at the feel of Clay’s lips on the side of his head.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay said. “But only for special occasions. Only for me.”

“Just for you,” Malcolm agreed, humming when he felt Clay’s hand on his upper thigh, rubbing gently.

“You’re mine, M,” Clay whispered.

“Only yours,” Malcolm breathed, leaning against Clay.

They sat like that for a while, sipping bourbon, Malcolm enjoying the feeling of Clay’s hand on his thigh. Everyone in the club made it a point to walk by the two of them, to stop for a moment to watch the two of them.

“Told you everyone would be jealous,” Clay whispered.

Malcolm blushed a bit at all the attention they were getting. A few of them would stop and talk to Clay about to ask about where Clay had gotten the clothes and jewelry, where he’d taken Malcolm to get his treatments.

“Xavier is going to get a lot more business,” Malcolm murmured.

“Good, he deserves it,” Clay said pressing a kiss to the side of Malcolm’s head.

Malcolm shivered at the feel of Clay’s lips.

“Feels nice,” Malcolm whispered.

“Does it?” Clay said.

Malcolm hummed and nodded, leaning into Clay’s touch. He took Clay’s hand and put it on his thigh, urging Clay’s hand higher.

“Antsy,” Clay murmured.

“Your hand feels so good,” Malcolm said. “So good.”

“Do you want my hand somewhere else?” Clay asked.

“Everywhere else,” Malcolm breathed.

“Want to get off the couch?” Clay asked.

“Please,” Malcolm whispered.

“Guess I better indulge you,” Clay said. “Up you go.”

Malcolm hummed as Clay got him to his feet and then stood as well. Malcolm offered the lead to Clay with a smile, letting Clay lead him through the club towards the equipment. Malcolm again felt the eyes of all the other patrons on him and Clay as they made their way through the club.

“Do you still want the swing?” Clay asked as they approached the equipment area.

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed. “I do.”

“Okay,” Clay said. “Since I don’t want to ruin anything you’ve got in, you’re going to get undressed except for the stockings.”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm murmured.

“Turn around and I’ll unlace the corset,” Clay said.

Malcolm immediately complied, smiling when he felt Clay press a kiss to his shoulder first before loosening his corset. He wiggled a little when Clay set the corset aside, laughing when Clay gave his ass a sharp swat.

“Sorry,” Malcolm murmured.

“You’re not, but that’s okay,” Clay said. “Finish stripping, darlin’, and we’ll get you strapped in.”

Malcolm nodded, slipping out of the dress and the underwear, somehow unashamed even with the entire club suddenly watching them. Malcolm carefully folded everything and set it on top of the corset before waiting for Clay’s next instruction.

“Time for the swing,” Clay said softly.

Malcolm let Clay maneuver him a bit over to the swing. Malcolm eyed it for a few moments, trying to figure out how he’d even get into it, before glancing over his shoulder at Clay.

“The center of it rests against your lower stomach, then the other strap goes across your chest just under your armpits and you’ll rest your legs in the straps at the bottom,” Clay said softly. “It’s going to leave you very open.”

“It will,” Malcolm whispered. “Open to your pleasure.”

“Damn right,” Clay replied. 

Malcolm let Clay get him situated on the swing, making sure Malcolm was both comfortable and secure. Malcolm hummed when he felt Clay run a hand down Malcolm’s back.

“You can let your arms hang or you can or you can grab the strap,” Clay said. 

Malcolm hummed as he found a spot to rest his hands, squeaking when Clay snapped at the elastic of Malcolm’s thigh highs.

“Also, as always, you’re free to be vocal,” Clay said. “I know you like flogging, but I don’t think you’ve yet experienced a good spanking.”

Malcolm froze at Clay’s words. He had a very memorable spanking from Clay back in college but that one had been less than fun.

“Check in with me, darlin’,” Clay said.

Malcolm shivered as he felt Clay spread his legs and step between them. 

“Yellow,” Malcolm admitted. He already felt very exposed, strapped into the swing with his ass facing the entire club - he’d wanted to broaden his horizons but he was suddenly uncertain.

“The last time you got a spanking was a punishment,” Clay whispered. “A spanking can be erotic, can bring you so much pleasure. Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Malcolm murmured. 

“Then trust me to know what you need,” Clay said.

“I do,” Malcolm whispered.

“So?” Clay asked.

“Green,” Malcolm said. “Green.”

“Good boy,” Clay whispered. “My good, bright, beautiful, boy.”

“Yours,” Malcolm whispered.

Malcolm closed his eyes and waited, waited for Clay to make his move. The first smack caught Malcolm off guard and he yelped. The second slap was a bit harder on his other cheek and Malcolm hissed a bit at the pain. He swung a bit at the force of Clay’s smacks - Clay alternated cheeks, alternated speeds, alternated the strength of the slaps … Very quickly Malcolm felt himself drop as the slaps sent shivers up his spine and straight to his cock. 

“Ready for me, M?” Clay asked.

Clay’s words penetrated through the fuzzy haze in Malcolm’s brain and he nodded.

“Yes,” Malcolm cried. “Green! Green, please!”

Moments later he heard the distinct sound of a zipper, then Malcolm cried out when he felt the chill of lube and then Clay pressing into him. The burn mixed with the pain in his ass made Malcolm almost come on the spot. The first thrust from Clay was accompanied by a resounding clap on Malcolm’s ass and Malcolm cried out.

“Come whenever you want, darlin’,” Clay said. “You’re so pretty like this, M. Come for me …”

With one more resounding slap to his ass, Malcolm came with a loud shout. Hanging a bit limp in the swing, he felt Clay give a few more pumps and then come as well. Malcolm sighed when Clay slid out of him then whimpered when he felt Clay wrap him in a blanket and release him from the swing. The soft cashmere of the blanket almost get rough on his ass and Malcolm cried out.

“Shh, darlin’, it’s okay,” Clay said. “I’ll take care of you in a minute. Just gotta get you to the couches.”

Malcolm burrowed into Clay’s embrace and as soon as Clay sat down, Malcolm rolled onto his hip to keep the blanket from brushing too much against his ass.

“I have some cream,” Clay whispered. “And a few wipes for your face.”

Malcolm hummed, still a bit fuzzy. He sighed when he felt Clay rubbing the cooling aloe cream onto his ass, the heat and pain immediately gone. Malcolm burrowed into the blankets a bit as Clay gently wiped his face clean - he hadn’t even realized he’d cried. When Clay started to run his fingers through Malcolm’s hair he hummed softly, started to come back to himself a bit.

“Have some water, darlin’,” Clay whispered.

Malcolm fumbled for the straw and drank greedily, then pillowed his head on Clay’s shoulder.

“‘s good,” Malcolm mumbled, smiling when he felt Clay’s hand in back in his hair.

“Very good,” Clay said softly. “Gonna take you home.”

“Home,” Malcolm agreed. “Shower?”

“Tomorrow, darlin’,” Clay said. “We’ll wash those curls out tomorrow - you’re too out of it right now.”

“M’kay,” Malcolm mumbled, snuggling back into Clay’s embrace.

He didn’t actually remember much after that, but somehow they ended up back at home in bed with Malcolm’s head pillowed on Clay’s chest.

“Dress and corset here?” Malcolm asked sleepily, smiling when Clay chuckled softly.

“Yes, I brought them home,” Clay replied.

“Good, they were pretty,” Malcolm asked. “Hey Clay?”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna get married?” Malcolm pressed a sleepy kiss to Clay’s chest.

“What?”

“Married,” Malcolm said. “Wanna get married?” He looked up at Clay and smiled. “I want to get married. To you. I want to be Malcolm Bright Russell.”

“Darlin’, that sounds downright perfect,” Clay said. “I would love to get married. To you.”

“Good,” Malcolm murmured. “Gonna be mine now, just like I’m yours.”

“Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> So ... Malcolm goes from looking like [Malcolm](https://www.tvinsider.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/PS-S1_106-Sc6_DG_0048-1014x570.jpg) ... 
> 
> To looking like [Jesus](https://www.motorcitycomiccon.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/TomPayneSite.jpg) ... 
> 
> To looking like [Jaxon](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ENOClleVAAAMb1X?format=jpg&name=medium)
> 
> WIth a little [Robert Cole](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ENaTbyXVAAAhN3E?format=jpg&name=900x900) thrown in


End file.
